


you're the sunflower

by everythingspiteful



Series: new york, new spider-man [1]
Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: "hey remember that one period where there were like four different spiderpeople lol", Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempt at Humor, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Irony, Light Angst, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Social Media, Spider-Man Interacting with New Yorkers, Texting, Tumblr, Twitter, also this may be a reveal fic, blease, blease listen to miles he may be short and squishy but he's trying, haha rip my sleep schedule :), i got a shit update schedule you'll just have to bear with me here KSDJFHSF, thanks @ ao3 tutorials ur a godsend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2019-09-30 06:29:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17218721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everythingspiteful/pseuds/everythingspiteful
Summary: Miles almost regretted impulsively spray-painting a Spider-Man suit instead of just making his own later; the stench didn't wear off for a good few weeks, during which he had a really uncomfortable time not passing out while inhaling too much of the fumes.At least it looked cool.ORIn which Miles, slowly but surely, finds his way into the hearts of New Yorkers while taking up the mantel of the "New Spider-Man."(Bit of a media fic. Bear with me while I work out skins lmao)





	1. on the matter of adjusting

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from Post Malone and Swae Lee's song, "Sunflower"
> 
> i FINALLY got around to seeing the movie and??? i'm honestly in awe??? absolutely breathtaking. the animation, story arcs, characters... 10/10 would recommend.
> 
> anyways peter will always be My Boy,, but miles stole my heart too so uhhh here you go a half-baked fanfic lol
> 
> not really sure if this'll have a real set plot?? i'm kinda writing whatever i feel would happen after the events of the movie. 
> 
> i wanna make it clear that the only experience i have with miles' character is from this movie and that one novel by jason reynolds so please bear with me and point out any glaring mistakes, thanks!
> 
> (though his age wasn't specifically said in the movie, i DO know that he was thirteen in the comics when he got his powers, so i'm going with that)
> 
> enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> love u officer <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw we're ignoring the ending w gwen because even though i love her and the idea of miles having a way to communicate with them, i lowkey just wanna focus this on him without the other spider-peeps. but he'll still think of them and they'll be indirectly helping him hhgh idk
> 
> i wanna thank [aerynevenstar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerynevenstar/pseuds/aerynevenstar) for the awesome [tutorial](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15664164) on how to work with social media skins! i'll be using a lot of different tutorials since i have no idea how to code things properly so please make sure to check out the authors i mention! :)

Miles almost regretted impulsively spray-painting a Spider-Man suit instead of just making his own later; the stench didn't wear off for a good few weeks, during which he had a really uncomfortable time not passing out while inhaling too much of the fumes.

At least it looked cool.

(And really, it  _did -_ it made him  _feel_ cool, too, what with the red-and-black theme, the way it fit on him like a second skin, and the  _mobility,_ God-)

Even so, in those weeks, through the awful stench, he'd managed to gain a better idea of how the ropes (literally) worked. Now that he'd become better acquainted with his roommate, Ganke Lee, and had a real cover story for why he snuck out all the time, patrolling the city had become loads easier. And he didn't even really have to worry about his parents, seeing as how he only really saw them on weekends.

Not counting his father, of course, whom he saw every time he webbed up a new batch of criminals (and  _really,_ New York had to chill with the criminal activity; it seemed there was always either a bank heist or a burning building).

Miles and his dad - or, Officer Davis, as he called him in the suit - had really come a long way in terms of relationship, working together in keeping the city safe and all that jazz. Miles ended up dropping the deep voice after Jeff had exploded and told him just how horrible it was and how he could tell very easily he was a minor, but the accents stayed - wouldn't want to out himself as his son, would he?

(Even if he switched the accent all the time, and occasionally slipped back into his normal voice.)

The only thing Miles truly hated about the experience was the way Jeff  _insisted_ on babying him. Like he was his father - like he was _Spider-Man's_ father, not _Miles',_ because he really  _was_ Miles' father, but that wasn't the point because Jeff didn't  _know_ Miles was Spider-Man.

"Don't you have, like, homework, or something?" Jeff irritatingly said to Miles while he, in his suit, feeling every bit the superhero he was, sat on the hood of his father's police car, supervising the cleanup of a rather nasty robbery from that evening.

Miles tried to hold in a yawn. He  _did_ have an English essay due, now that his father mentioned it. "It's only eight-thirty," the thirteen-year-old argued, trying on a faux Canadian accent. (It was awful.) "Don't  _you_ have police work?"

Jeff raised an eyebrow pointedly at the police car door he'd just closed, which now housed an extra criminal in handcuffs. "What do you think I'm doing, son?"

"No, not a son, a random stranger man," Miles said quickly, his voice raising a couple octaves higher than he would've liked.

 _Idiota!_ shouted a voice in his head.  _He probably knows who you are now! You blew it! You absolute buffoon, you're awful at this, unworthy of the title of Spider-Man, you-_

Jeff snorted. "Alright,  _random stranger man._ Go home, we're taking care of this."

"You sure there's nothing else I can help you with, officer?" Miles asked, heart racing. Oh man. Ohhh man. Oh he was so bad at this.

His father leaned on the car door, staring at his fellow officers as they moved about, paramedics and fire department already taking care of other damages. After a few moments, he turned his head up to peer into Miles' eyes - the bug lenses on the mask, at least, but it felt like he was really seeing right through the fabric - and said, in a voice filled with an emotion Miles found difficult to place, "Why are you so insistent, kid?"

"Not a kid."  _Yes, you are. Why do you keep arguing?_

Jeff began to run his hands through his hair, remembered he wore his police cap, settled with scratching the back of his neck. "You have a home. School. Friends. Parents who are probably worried out of their minds."

_If my parents knew who I was, they'd flip out. You'd probably ground me for a month and bar my windows._

"Nah," Miles said instead, which, in hindsight, was probably the stupidest answer he could've given. At Jeff's suddenly furrowed eyebrows, he hastily added, "I mean, they're probably not worried. It's only eight-thirty. Not that I have a curfew or anything, I don't even live with my parents. Because I'm an adult. Yes. Exactly. Thank you."

Jesus, he wasn't getting better, he was getting  _worse._

Jeff sighed in exasperation and waved his hand. "Whatever, Spider-Man. Yeah, we're good here. You get going. Good night."

"You two!" Miles exclaimed, stumbling to his feet on the slick roof of the car. It'd rained not too long ago, and he knew he'd have to be careful not to get too confident with his wall-sticking abilities. Water tended to dampen the effect, if only a little. "Love ya!" he called as he jumped and scaled the side of a building, leaped off, shot a web, began to swing.

At least the  _Officer, I love you_ had lost its initial awkwardness. Now it was a bit of a tradition to say he loved his father in his spidey-suit every night, and Miles just hoped Jeff didn't get any suspicions because of it. 

He circled around the block for a bit to make sure no prying eyes followed him on his way home; there'd be hell to pay if it got out that "New Spider-Man" actually attended Brooklyn Visions Academy. Him being much younger than eighteen would be common knowledge, for one.

Miles vaulted over a particularly high building and let himself fall, feeling the rush of cold air around his mask as his limbs instinctively flailed for a moment before resting at his sides, his heart calmer than it had been a week ago if he'd decided to do this. He let out a whoop and stuck his arm out, shooting a web, bracing himself for the jerk at his shoulder and the pull as he swung back upwards, going faster than any car down below.

He'd really gotten better. Miles wished Peter could see him now. (The hobo one.)

Miles tried to think of what the tired superhero would be doing now. Eating pizza, probably - or enjoying a romantic dinner with MJ, if things had gone according to plan and he'd gone to fix his relationship with the woman. Miles hoped things worked out for them.

He was brought out of his thoughts as a building seemingly came out of nowhere, leaving Miles having to twist his body unnaturally in order to evade the glass windows - he ended up just running along the length of them, stepping off the side to shoot a web further out and take a long swing across the block. Within minutes, he'd arrived at his school, crawled up to his window, and opened it to let himself in.

Ganke was, predictably, slurping on a soda and tapping at something on his computer. A pile of homework sat off to the side of the desk, so Miles figured he'd already finished his.

He groaned.

Ganke barely looked up from the screen. "Didn't even start, huh?" If Miles listened hard enough, he could find maybe a  _drop_ of sympathy.

Miles threw on a sweatshirt and sat himself down on his bed, where his schoolbag lay abandoned. "Man, I  _wanted_ to get a head start before going out today, but..."

"Didn't peg you as a procrastinator."

"I'm  _not._ Not usually." Not when he didn't want to be.

Ganke pushed away from the desk in his swivel chair and spun around to face Miles. "Nice work out there," he complimented, jabbing a finger back towards the computer screen, where a game of Pong stood waiting. "Two robberies in a week? Damn."

"I know, it's like they think I'm incompetent or something," Miles joked, resigned to taking out his homework. " _Ugh._ At least math should be easy enough."

Ganke took another long sip from his soda. "You'll get there. They may not take you seriously now, but they'll grow on you. They have to."

"You don't think they take me seriously?"

"Think of it this way-" He placed the soda in his lap. "Old Spider-Man dies. Which still sucks, by the way. A few days later, all of Brooklyn is plagued with earthquakes and weirdly 3-D Bansky artworks. Yeah, dimensional openings, I know. Anyway. And then there's this window where you see a bunch of  _new_ Spider-People, except they disappear soon after, and suddenly New York has a new, smaller Spider-Man in a black suit. And it's not a bad thing, because he's clearly helping, but it's definitely something new. And I just think..."

Miles suddenly found math homework very hard.

"I don't know, dude. I think people need to adjust."

Miles put his pencil against his chin. "Sucks."

Ganke let out a laugh. "Yeah." A beat. "But you'll get there."

Miles stared down at his paper for a moment. When he looked back at his roommate, he saw him playing Pong on the computer, slurping on his soda like it was the most important thing in the world.

" _Ay, dios mío,_ " Miles muttered without thinking, mimicking the many times he'd heard his mother. "Alright, Morales, homework."

"That's the spirit!" Ganke cheered as he won another round of his game. Miles wasn't quite sure if his roommate meant him or the game, but either way, he appreciated the effort.

* * *

 

Alexis  
@notdannydevito   
@elijahfurrydude i remember u talkin abt how young new spidey sounds and i just heard him today for the first time and ??jfc take away the fake ass accent and he's clearly a kid 12:06 PM - Oct 2, 2018  26  43

Diana McFrey  
@princessofthebog   
@PDNY so uhhh... y'all gonna let us know when you get the fuckin KID out of danger? idk just sayin... wouldn't want a repeat of last time lol 4:39 PM - Oct 2, 2018  104  198 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my bilingual ass is LOVING puerto rican miles,, y'all know i'll be putting in some spanish wherever i can lmao, and using the tendency i have to swear in different languages either in my head/out loud
> 
> hey i hope u liked it! if not, lemme know what i could do better! either way i love comments :)
> 
> i'll try to keep chapters relatively short in contrast to my 5k word fics i've been doing recently, just so i can fire chappies out as quickly as possible lmao
> 
> have a lovely day/night!


	2. an example of the perfect candidate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> letsmcfreakinloseit: HAVE YALL SEEN THE VID OF NEW!SPIDEY JUMPING INTO THE BURNING BUILDING

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hwhAT i posted the first chapter like two days ago and already got so many comments wtf???? thanks????? im so glad y'all like it so far!!
> 
> thanks so much to [phyripo's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phyripo/pseuds/phyripo) [tutorial](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11474979) on how to make tumblr posts!
> 
> and again thanks to [aerynevenstar's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerynevenstar/pseuds/aerynevenstar) [tutorial](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15664164) for the twitter posts!
> 
> chapter title comes from "All Time Low" by Jon Bellion bc i happened to be listening to that at the time lmao
> 
> enjoy!

ultimate spanker  
@letsmcfreakinloseit   
HAVE YALL SEEN THE VID OF NEW!SPIDEY JUMPING INTO THE BURNING BUILDING 5:08 PM - Oct 22, 2018  4,453  5,001 

you heard it folks  
@rihannaslandlord   
@letsmcfreakinloseit wAIT WTF he did WHAT?? 5:59 PM - Oct 22, 2018  67  103 

ultimate spanker  
letsmcfreakinloseit   
@rihannaslandlord https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ ITS INSANE 6:14 PM - Oct 22, 2018  9,789  9,845 

* * *

In hindsight, maybe Miles should’ve thought things through _before_ jumping into a burning building.

He’d decided to take a swing around town in order to clear his head after a good two hours of homework - and _man,_ biology was kicking him in the butt, but there was no way he’d just give up now when midterms were so close - and what would he find but the smell of smoke in the air and the same dark cloud billowing up from a few blocks away, not to mention the buzz of his spider sense like an insistent bug ( _heh_ ) warning him of _danger danger danger!_

Miles had no idea whether the fire was accidental or an arson; he knew he’d find out on the news tomorrow, though, so there was that, and anyway, it wasn’t so much the _fire_ that mattered but the people that were trapped inside.

“A sitter and twins at the top of the building,” according to a firefighter talking with a worried pair of paramedics, “and it’s close to collapsing, thanks to the backdrafts from opening the doors in the front as people tried to get out.”

The building lay on the less busy side of town, one of those shops that had an apartment over it so the owners didn’t need a separate home. Miles vaguely recognized it from trips with Uncle Aaron, back when they’d go for ice cream before finding a conveniently-placed alleyway to do graffiti in.

Miles took a deep breath, pushing away painful memories from nearly two months ago, and let himself fall towards the ground. He shot a web and propelled himself to where a window in the building stood open, likely the floor where the three people were, took in the smoke billowing out like some putrid shadow, and prayed to every deity imaginable that he wouldn’t land in a patch of flames.

He barely heard the firefighters shouting after him before he’d landed in a roll on the floor of a living room - and immediately scrambling to his feet and a safe distance away from the flames that had roared to life merely a foot away from his face.

 _Wow, fire’s a lot hotter than I thought,_ Miles thought, albeit a bit belatedly.

He took only a moment to gather his surroundings - the burning sofa, peeling wallpaper, smoke and fire and spider-sense going _danger danger danger!_ \- then remembered he was there to _save_ people, because he was Spider-Man and had superpowers, and he was likely the only one who could safely get everyone out before the building collapsed.

Above him, the ceiling groaned.

Miles crouched lower to the ground in the hopes of catching cleaner air. Running through his mind the places a babysitter would bring two kids during a fire, he called out in a voice higher than he cared to admit, “ _Hello!_ Anybody here?”

He listened intently, straining his enhanced ears to pick up something, _anything_ , whether it be a cough or whimper.

“It’s your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man,” Miles called, his voice louder, trying his hardest to keep the mounting fear from leaking into his tone. What if he was too late? What if all he found were bodies? What if the extra weight of his body caused the building to collapse? What if-

Through the crackle and pop of the flames, through the groaning of the building, he heard a tiny reply of, “ _Help._ ”

Miles let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Hello? _Hey,_ where are you? I’m gonna come get you, please just talk a little louder so I can follow your voice-”

“In - in here,” came the voice, and he recognized it as that of a young woman’s. A beat, then, “Closet…”

Miles swept his head around the room, pinpointing the noise. It seemed to come from further towards the hallway. He began to move further into the house, silently thanking his flexibility allowing him to maneuver around pieces of furniture and weak spots in the floor. His spider-sense, the buzzing louder and seemingly all around him ( _no shit!)_ distracted him only a little. He focused on his footfalls on the (hot, _very_ hot) floor, tried to breathe as much as he could, thankful for the semi-permeable filter his mask provided.

He crept along the floor, flinching every time something popped or cracked nearby. His heart pounded against his chest, his breaths becoming more labored, and all around, it stayed _hot_ and _burning_ and-

_Danger! Danger! Danger!_

“Shut up, Miles,” he muttered to himself. “Calm down. _Calm._ What would Peter do?”

Peter would be faster. Peter would have probably secured the building first. Peter wouldn’t be completely and utterly terrified. Peter would-

“ _Ay, mierda,_ ” Miles cursed.

 _What should_ I _do?_

Miles called again for the babysitter, and she responded in kind. He snapped his head towards the voice and came face to face with a closed closet door next to a hallway, where he supposed the bedrooms were.

Luckily, the door had not yet caught aflame; so, as quickly as possible, Miles put his hands out and shot two lines of webbing at the door, jerked it towards him. It came off its hinges and Miles shot forward to catch it before it hit the floor, then lowered it gently to the ground. He lifted his head to see a three people huddled inside: two identical little boys, none older than five or six, and a teenage girl holding them tight.

“Next time, head to the bathroom,” Miles found himself saying. He crept forward and held his hands out. “Come on, I’m gettin’ you out.”

No further words were needed; with an expression more open and trusting than anything Miles would’ve expected being directed towards him, the babysitter coaxed the twins out of the closet and into his arms. He lifted them up and held them close to his chest, feeling their heartbeats frantically pounding against him. He nodded at the sitter, who set her jaw and crawled out after him - she was taller, so Miles wouldn’t carry her until they reached a window.

Together, they made their way back to the living room, Miles calling out warnings whenever he thought something would fall down, or a particularly large flame decided to spread further towards them. To his right, the sitter coughed violently, then pulled the front of her shirt up to her nose.

Miles pushed on forward.

It felt like hours - hours of suffocating heat, smoke burning the inside of his nose, the bodies clinging to him heaving as they tried to breathe - before they finally reached the window he’d come in through. The fire hadn’t spread too far since his entrance, but smoke still clogged up the air and his eyesight, and the flames grew steadily higher. No doubt the entry point would be completely inaccessible within minutes, thanks to the oxygen from outside.

He turned to the babysitter. “I’m gonna check to see if they’ve put a mattress down there yet-“ he set down the twins, who immediately began to whine and reach their hands out, “-just hold on to them and _stay put_ , please, I promise I’ll be back in a sec!”

If he’d stayed back a moment longer to see the babysitter’s expression, he would’ve seen her widening eyes and blanching face as she realized just how _young_ he was - because in his haste, he’d dropped the deep voice and fake accent, leaving his obviously child-voice exposed for anyone who cared to listen.

As it was, Miles had already reached the window by the time the sitter had had this revelation. He twisted his body to avoid the flames, grit his teeth through the heat, and looked over outside. Sure enough, through the smoke, he could just make out a large, white mattress on the floor. Voices reached his ears, and he was touched to realize that some of them seemed to be encouraging him specifically.

Miles steeled himself, turned around to grab the others, only to fight for balance as the building _groaned_ \- and it seemed to _heave_ and _bend_ around him, cracking and popping like a log in a fireplace.

( _Danger danger danger-)_

_Oh._

_Oh, no._

The three people he’d left behind screamed as the ground rumbled.

_¡Mierda!_

In a moment, he’d shot forward and placed himself above the others, gathering them all up in his arms and shooting a web up at the ceiling just as the ground broke away beneath them; they stayed dangling there for a moment, then the ceiling _popped_ and _crackled_ and _danger danger danger-_

Miles let out a scream as he frantically tried to keep the three people attached to him - the sitter wrapped around his midsection while he held the twins in his left arm, both of them digging their fists in his shoulders.

With his free hand, he grabbed a hold of the wooden floorboards still attached to the rest of the house before they dropped down; but they bent dangerously under his weight, so in a split-second decision, he pushed up as far as he could, and while that bit of floor disappeared under his hand, he shot another web further into the back of the room, where ceiling met wall.

Afraid the fire would make his webs weaker, he scrambled for purchase and heaved himself and the others up onto the floor again, his shoulder straining with the effort of pulling so many people on a small string. Not for the first time since getting bit, Miles thanked his super strength.

The sitter helped him up once she managed to gain purchase on the ground, too, but her movements were shaky and weak, her eyes wide and full of panic. Miles bit his lip, knowing he’d have to move quickly if he wanted to get everyone out.

“Run to the window,” Miles told the babysitter. “Jump. I’ll be right behind you with the twins.”

She nodded, placed a shaking hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, Spider-Man,” she said, her voice raspy and quivering.

Miles smiled, though he knew she wouldn’t be able to see it through the mask. “On the count of three. Try not to stop or the fire might burn you-“

“I got it.” She coughed into her hand. “Thanks again.”

“One…” Miles kept an eye on the flames. “Two…” Oh, God, what if he tripped? What if the whole building came down? “Three-“

As if on autopilot, his hand reached out to push the sitter forward. Crouched low to the ground, the twins on Miles’ back, they moved towards the window-

The flames by the window reared up as a gust of wind blew towards the building, smoke polluting the air around them. The sitter hesitated, and Miles’ spider-sense shrieked a warning; so he shouted, “ _Move!”_ and leaned forward to grab the sitter around the waist, then sprinted the rest of the way to the window.

As the inferno roared and reached its hot, hot fingers towards them, Miles jumped, holding three other people.

He heard the screams of both the people in his arms and those on the ground as they fell, through the cloud of smoke, closer to the soft mattress the firefighters had brought out. In a moment of clarity, Miles jerked his arms around and moved the bodies to his front, then twisted in the air to land on his back - and thank God for the mattress, because three people at once, on concrete, would certainly have broken at _least_ a rib or two.

Miles gasped at the impact, the fabric folding around him, and one of the twins’ heads slammed into his nose. He flailed his limbs in an effort to rise above the mattress again, only to find the weight taken off of him. Now with a clear line of vision, Miles noticed the firefighters taking the twins and sitter off the mattress and to an ambulance, where paramedics waited to take care of them.

Despite being out of the fire, Miles still smelled a lot more smoke than he would’ve expected; after a moment, he realized just how much of it must’ve settled in his suit, so he lifted the bottom half of his mask up to his nose and let out a relieved sigh, then another few deep breaths - who knew fresh air could feel so _good!_

“Spider-Man!” came a call from above him, and a moment later, the mattress sunk down when someone stepped onto it. Miles looked into the face of a firefighter and let himself be pulled up and off the mattress.

 _Ow_ , his body complained as he stood up.

The firefighter placed her hands on his shoulders, and Miles suddenly realized just how short he was in comparison to the adults around him. “Are you in any pain, Spidey?” the firefighter asked.

Miles found himself shaking his head, only to wince as he realized how much his nose stung. “I think my nose is bleeding,” he told her, deciding on a British accent.

Her expression morphed to one of confusion (definitely not the accent, right?), and she waved a paramedic over. “It’s not bleeding, but if you knocked it on something, then it’d be a good idea to make sure nothing will swell-”

“Ah, no that’s… that’s fine, thanks-” Miles took a step backward, grinning sheepishly at the paramedic who had reached out to him as well. “I heal fast, I’ll be fine by morning - thanks!”

The paramedic narrowed his eyes at the boy. “Yeah, _no._ You just barely escaped a collapsing building. You inhaled loads of smoke. Apparently, you also hit your nose. Not only that, I’d like to work on your British accent because it sounds absolutely _awful_.”

Miles opened his mouth to argue, but the words died in his throat as he looked over the paramedic’s shoulder - Officer Jeff was making his way over, all crisp uniform and sternly set jaw and _oh, fuck, I’ve gotta pull my mask down ‘cause what if he recognizes me by mouth or nose or something?_

“Spider-Man,” Jeff acknowledged as Miles hurriedly pulled the fabric over his mouth. “Are you okay?”

“Am I - I mean-” Miles realized he’d almost forgotten to disguise his voice. “Yes, officer! Totally fine. Absolutely.”

“That was a pretty heavy collapse,” Jeff continued, a bit of concern leaking into his voice. “We could see part of the building collapse from outside. It’s a miracle you were able to get to the window in time - you sure you’re not hurt anywhere? Have the paramedics taken care of you yet?”

“Apparently he hit his nose on something,” the paramedic said flippantly, jabbing a finger at Miles’ face, “but he’s been standing okay and seems to insist on doing bad accents. All in all, I’d say he’s okay but I’d still like to look him over.”

“I’m _fine,_ ” Miles insisted. The adults ignored him.

“The people he saved are on the way to the hospital for more care,” Jeff told the firefighter.

She gave a relieved sigh. “They’ll be okay, I hope. Spidey did good.”

“Thanks,” Miles said, again unnoticed. He fidgeted in place, looking up and at the buildings, considering just swinging away while they were distracted.

“I’m gonna get back to my station, unless y’all need any more help,” the firefighter said, jerking her head towards the firetruck still spraying the building with water.

Jeff nodded. “Yeah, yeah, thanks for everything. I’ll take care of things from here.”

 _Oh, no, you won’t,_ Miles thought.

“Right, well, anyways,” the paramedic butt in, “I’m just gonna make sure Spider-Brit over here is in any danger of dying. Get over here, Spidey-”

“Hey, I said I’m fine-”

“Jesus Christ, Spider-Man,” Jeff sighed. “Let him do his job. I’d rather you stay healthy in time for school tomorrow-”

“I don’t _have_ school tomorrow,” Miles whined.

The paramedic raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. So you’ve got homework? _Wow,_ New York’s gone _insane_ if you’re really just a kid-”

That was his cue. With a huff, Miles had slipped into camo mode and disappeared from sight, leaving the paramedic with a gaping jaw.

Jefferson groaned in frustration. “Stop _doing_ that!”

* * *

Wow Okay  
@itsemmmaaa   
Black suit Spidey has no real business doing what he's doing. He's way in over his head. Not only that, calling yourself New Spider-Man? It's like he's spitting in Parker's face. OG Spider-Man could never be replaced and this kid has to stop acting like he is. 8:43 AM - Oct 23, 2018  934  1,687 

* * *

“This kid will be the death of me,” groaned Jefferson Davis that night as he sat on the sofa next to his wife.

Rio paused the TV with a sigh. “This is the fifth time you’ve whined about Spider-Man in the last hour, _mi amor,_ ” she told him, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “Are you even sure he’s a minor?”

“Rio.” Jeff stared at her. “He _hugged_ me. He told me he _loved_ me.”

“That was his first big fight.”

“He always tries to deepen his voice around me! Even after I told him I knew it was fake. He _still_ tries to disguise his voice.”

“Secret identity, remember?”

Jeff shook his head. “Rio, I _know_ it. He’s so… so _small._ He _moves_ like a kid. He moves like _Miles_.”

“Are you saying our son is Spider-Man, Jeff?” Rio asked with a twitch of her lips.

Jeff dramatically flopped his head back on the pillow. “Of _course_ not. But they’re close in age, I’m sure.”

Rio stayed quiet a moment, biting her lip. “If he is a kid…”

“He is.”

“Then…” she sighed again, placing a comforting hand on her husband’s knee. “Well, you’re already looking out for him, aren’t you?”

“He makes it so _hard._ He can turn _invisible._ The old Spider-Man couldn’t do that.”

“ _Basta_ ,” Rio chided. “You are a father. And a police officer. You know how to get through to him. He has his whole life ahead of him… you can get him to choose a… a safer path.”

Jeff dragged a hand across his face. “God, I hope so. I don’t know what I’d do if he… if what happened to Peter happened to him.” He lifted his head again to look into Rio’s eyes, which were wide and worried now that the full picture of what could happen became apparent. “He’s a _kid._ ”

Rio looked down at her hands, picked at her navy blue shirt. “ _Dios mío._ ”

They sat in silence for a while.

“I miss Miles,” Jeff said suddenly.

His son would be coming home tomorrow for the weekend - and though Jeff understood the importance of keeping Spider-Man in check, he also yearned to spend some quality time with his child, who he hardly saw throughout the day due to being in a boarding school. And though the school gave Miles the potential to grow into the best version of himself, sometimes Jeff found himself wishing he could see him on more than just two days a week.

Rio smiled sadly. “Me, too. We’ll see him soon.”

Jeff remembered Miles’ appearance in his room on the night of the earthquake, the way he’d clung to Jeff with a strength he hadn’t known his son possessed; the small, “Do you really hate Spider-Man?” to which Jeff replied, _Yeah, kinda,_ only to later find out that New York’s hero (and, in many people’s eyes, only source of protection, a mindset Jeff _highly_ despised) had died at the tender age of twenty-six.

Peter Parker had been only sixteen when he’d started. This new Spider-Man looked to be even _younger._

Jeff wondered if this Spider-Man’s parents knew what he was doing. If they understood the significance of his actions, that one day he wouldn’t come home.

He wondered, terrifyingly, if Spider-Man’s parents even cared.

* * *

reflexerbitch  hescommingg moistdictator-babey I think spider-man's a woman.  cassidy-x what the fuck?  Source: moistdictator-babey #spiderman#my guy what does this MEAN #i am certain spider-man goes by he him but whatever floats ur boat 3,204 notes 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (the link in the twitter post is an actual video btw!!)
> 
> hope u enjoyed the chapter! have a lovely day/night and remember to take of yourselves! :) happy 2019!!


	3. darlin', there's no need to be paranoid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> expectation: well organized media fic that flows naturally with the story
> 
> reality: jumble of angst and tumblr shitposts
> 
> me: would die for miles morales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fsdfsdjfhsk seriously you guys are so nice im crying?? thanks for the comments!! ily all
> 
> EDIT: image now works! :))
> 
> (i HAD to start off 2019 by rick rolling y'all forgive me)
> 
> thanks to [CodenameCarrot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CodenameCarrot/pseuds/CodenameCarrot) and [La_Temperanza's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/La_Temperanza/pseuds/La_Temperanza) [tutorial](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434845/chapters/14729722) on how to make text messages!
> 
> enjoy!

sixtyninespiders i'm so confused did we all just forget about the four or five extra spider-people that randomly popped up for a few days and disappeared again???  #during the earthquakes???#spiderman #I SWEAR TO GOD THERE WAS A PIG AND A ROBOT WHAT THE HELL#and like. are we just gonna ignore the guy that wore the same fuckin suit as peter p 7,454 notes 

redandblueallover self care is religiously watching the news to see what accent new!spidey is gonna do to disguise his voice  #i rly liked the british accent#like okay #it was Bad#but i appreciate the effort#he's trying his best#you go lil guy!!#spiderman 498 notes 

* * *

_REST IN POWER._

Miles let out a deep breath as he looked at the art on the wall: the swirl of vibrant colors blending together to bring life to the once-blank concrete, his uncle’s face in the center. Miles had never spent so long on a piece - he’d wanted this one to be perfect, Aaron’s likeness as accurate as possible, and the fact that his _father_ had arranged for him to have a _private wall_ to paint made it all the more special.

He’d seen it go around social media for a while, people wondering who the man painted was, as well as the artist. A few had credited him, whether they knew him personally or someone had pointed them in the right direction - it wasn’t exactly a secret that Miles liked to draw, and he didn’t doubt some knew of his… less legal projects. The stickers, for one.

The funeral service for Uncle Aaron had been a small one; him, his mother and father, and a few of Aaron’s buddies from when he’d dabbled in crime. Now, barely two weeks later, the pang going through Miles chest every time he thought of his uncle hadn’t lessened.

Going to look at the mural certainly helped (and, hey, Miles would be lying if he said he wasn’t proud of it). If anything, it helped him sleep at night, knowing his memory would be preserved for a long time in his hometown.

Miles took his hands out of his pockets and lifted his headphones up to his ears. Not for the first time, he felt the urge to listen to the music Aaron used to put on while they hung out together.

As the music played, he fixed his gaze on a smudge of color by the left side of the wall. Someone had probably leaned up on it before it’d had a chance to completely dry.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” someone said beside him.

Jumping a bit, Miles hastily pushed his headphones back down to rest on his shoulders. An old woman stood next to him, smiling fondly at the wall. A little boy tugged at her shirt.

“I guess,” Miles muttered. His face flushed a bit. Would it be too awkward to mention he was the one who drew it?

“I wonder who the man is,” the woman murmured. “And why he was painted on the wall. Do you think this was commissioned?”

“Uh, no, I don’t think so,” Miles answered. “It was arranged by the PDNY.” A beat. “One of the officer’s son did it for his late uncle.”

The woman’s expression softened even more, if that were possible. “That’s sweet. Do you know the person who did it?"

Shit, shit, shit. Too awkward to mention _he’d_ made it.

“Sorta,” Miles said, internally yelling at himself. “I, uh, know a friend of his.”

The woman nodded. The little boy tugged at her sleeve again, and she laughed a little. “Henry, come on. Let me look at this! Isn’t it beautiful?”

The boy, Henry, wrinkled his nose as he looked critically at the painting. “The Spider-Man ones are better.”

Miles choked and quickly turned it into a stuttering laugh. He’d seen some art of Spider-Man around the city (not his own art, that’d just be _weird,_ whether it was of his Spider-Man or Peter’s), though most of them were scrawled-out spiders in the style of the logo on the suit. That didn’t mean there weren’t some talented artists out there. Ganke took great joy in showing him the “fanart of our wittle Spidey boy,” as he put it, and watching Miles squirm and hide his face in his hands.

The tribute art to Peter Parker was even more impressive. Those who chose to give back to the hero by making their art for him poured their heart and soul into every piece, and it showed; much of the graffiti, specifically, went viral on the Internet for the sheer skill with which artists were able to throw up their piece without getting caught. For something that was likely rushed _and_ done in the dark (because Miles knew abandoned subway tunnels weren’t always an option for people, especially if you wanted others to see it), the paintings were some of the most impressive displays of art Miles had seen in a while.

“Can I draw on the wall, too, Gramma?” Henry inquired, staring eagerly up at the woman.

She tutted. “No, you need special permission to do that, Henry.”

“From who?”

“The police, mostly,” she told the little boy, “but sometimes people don’t listen and do it anyway. But you can get in a lot of trouble with that, so I’d better not see any of it any time soon-”

“I wanna draw Spider-Man!” Henry shrieked, jumping up and down a bit. He smiled broadly at Miles, who had fully turned his head to listen to the conversation ( _what_ , he had nothing else to do). “Spider-Man saved my friend, Ari!”

“The new Spider-Man, honey?” His grandmother frowned worriedly. “When did _this_ happen?”

“On Wednesday,” Henry answered cheerfully. He’d begun to practically bounce on the balls of his feet. “She almost got hit by a truck!”

_Oh,_ Miles remembered that. It’d been one of his “patrol days” - the few times he didn’t have homework, or homework that could be completed in under an hour, where he’d go out and patrol the city, mingle with the people, stuff like that. _Y’know, establish yourself,_ as Ganke put it.

The truck had actually been a rather large van. Miles was sitting on the top of a smaller building, enjoying a free mocha from the small coffee shop down the road, when his spider-sense rose up incessantly in his head, appearing as a small buzz that grew stronger as he pinpointed the danger: a car barrelling down the road towards a girl who had bounded into the street to grab a ball.

Like the quick-thinking hero he was, Miles had jumped off the building (in his haste, spilling his drink all over his leg, but no one needed to know that) and swung down to catch the van, which, now that he thought about it, it may have just been easier to get the girl out of the way.

Now, as Henry excitedly recounted Ari’s obviously exaggerated story, Miles couldn’t help the happy grin that spread across his face.

It’d been under two months since Peter Parker’s death, since Miles took on the mantle of Spider-Man. And though he loved New York, loved protecting it, he worried he was way in over his head; how could he not, when the adults hardly took him seriously even with the mask on, when he struggled with schoolwork and keeping his identity a secret from his parents, when he was a full three years younger than Peter had been when he first started?

The truth was, Miles really had no idea what he was doing most of the time; and he worried New York would see that, too, and lose faith in him.

_It’s a leap of faith,_ Peter B. Parker once told him.

Miles turned away from the concerned grandmother and over enthusiastic grandson to look at the painting one last time. Uncle Aaron had been a good man, and he would want Miles to keep going.

So he would.

* * *

Fricking Heck  
@bitchthatsmylasagne   
lmao new york is so obsessed w spiders. we got spider-themed food, spider graffiti, spider merch, spider everything. we've got so much love for our heroes i love this city 2:34 PM - Oct 9, 2018  56  87 

Millard  
@jasonbourneisbae   
@bitchthatsmylasagne EASY FOR YOU TO SAY!!! I HATE SPIDERS (Pouting Face ) 3:09 PM - Oct 9, 2018  3  11 

not a joke acc haha  
@unofficialspidey   
@jasonbourneisbae wow 3:49 PM - Oct 9, 2018  8  29 

elizabethandream saw some street art walking home today... this city's love really is beautiful.  credit to the artist!  #spiderman#graffiti #new york 23,347 notes 

* * *

Aside from being a hero (vigilante, menace, whatever you preferred), the original Spider-Man had been known for occasionally hanging out in public for no particular reason other than “to feel closer to the people,” as he once said in a rare interview, “‘cause, you know, with the mask and the reputation, many probably see me as unapproachable or untouchable, and I’m not - I’m just a guy who happened to get superpowers, but I still live as a civilian here and eat greasy pizza. And I think it’s important for people to feel comfortable around me. I’ll be here a while, after all.”

And though, no, he hadn’t ended up being there a long while - at least, not as long as people had hoped - Miles still found his words important, and as the next Spider-Man, shouldn’t it be his duty to learn as much as he could from Peter so as to be the best hero possible?

So, that Friday, Miles told his parents he’d come home a little later under the guise of spending time with Ganke, when really he’d be roaming Brooklyn, hanging out on top of trucks and in front of ice cream parlors, waving at children and overall helping people’s business.

(Because this totally wasn’t just an excuse to get free food.)

The whole week had been relatively slow - Miles had laid low for a while since the fire to let the smoke clear out of his lungs (and Ganke was a huge help, handing him water and tutting sympathetically every time Miles dramatically complained about the woes of his healing factor not kicking in fast enough), and luckily, the only criminal activity had been small robberies scattered throughout town. An armed robbery by a bank had been resolved quickly by the police before Miles had even got there (in his defense, he’d been in the middle of a math quiz).

Now, Miles sat on top of a hot chocolate vendor, legs swinging off the sides, holding a small cup of free drink, the marshmallows still plump and unmelted.

“Y’know, Arty,” Miles commented, swiping a thumb across his lips in an effort to get rid of any potential chocolate that may have settled, “this is probably, like, the _best_ hot chocolate I’ve ever had. Ten out of ten, would recommend.”

The man currently tending to a long line of wide-eyed civilians shot Miles a smile. “Thanks, Spidey.”

“You sure you don’t want me to pay for this?” Miles asked, desperately hoping he wouldn’t have to pay for anything because he didn’t actually have any money on him.

“I already told you, it’s on the house,” Arty said, hurriedly pouring out another two cups of hot chocolate for the couple he was selling it to. “That’ll be five dollars, ma’ams.”

Miles raised the cup to his lips again to take another sip, letting out an exaggerated _mmm_ as he did so. In front of the line, a young girl giggled up at him.

“He up there often, sir?” another customer asked Arty as they approached the vendor, squinting up at Miles.

Arty snorted. “Been doin’ that for the last few days. Try and get rid of him, he thinks he lives here now.”

“I just really like hot chocolate,” Miles defended, voice dripping with mock hurt.

“You really like _free_ hot chocolate.”

Miles sighed dramatically. “What can I say? Gotta pay rent.”

Arty let out a hearty laugh at that as he poured another cup. “ _Ha!_ Like you have to pay rent. You’re, what, twelve?”

“I am much older than _twelve_ ,” Miles whined, heart jumping in his throat.

_Yeah, like, one year older._

“Whatever, kid,” Arty said, smiling at the group of kids he handed some more hot chocolate to. “If me giving you free hot chocolate is gonna keep you away from danger for a bit, then that’s what I’ll do.”

“You shouldn’t be doing this vigilante stuff if you’re so young,” said another person in the back of the line, a disapproving frown on his face as he held a small baby.

Miles stared blankly at the line of people, looked down at his hot chocolate, wrinkled his nose. “I just wanna drink my hot chocolate,” he mumbled self-consciously, bringing his legs up close to his chest.

Maybe it was his fault for not deepening his voice all day. He’d just wanted a break, since it really made his throat hoarse, and Ganke had already laughed at his most recent German accent. (Not that it wasn’t justified. Miles had no idea what a German accent would sound like, so he just went with what he saw on TV.)

A breath of wind blew through the air; Miles shivered involuntarily, the thin fabric of his suit doing nothing to keep him warm. Though it was only October, winter seemed to love coming early in New York. No doubt it would start to snow sometime during November.

Out of the corner of his eye, Miles saw someone move forward. He looked up to see a young man taking off his jacket, his eyes on Miles’ shaking form.

Miles’ eyes widened underneath the mask as he waved a free hand at the guy. “Oh my God, no, it’s okay, I don’t want you to get cold, I can deal-”

“ _Chill_ ,” the man laughed, proceeding to take off the hoodie underneath the jacket. He held out to Miles, who hesitated. “C’mon, kid,” he said. “I’m not getting any warmer here like this, either.”

Hastily setting down the cup of hot chocolate next to him, Miles reached forward to snatch the hoodie, and the man put his jacket back on.

The hoodie was a light gray and had the LIU logo printed on the front. Holding it in his arms, Miles asked, “You sure? I don’t want you to be cold, man, I mean, I can swing home to grab a jacket later. It ain’t that bad-”

“Dude, just put the hoodie on before you catch a cold,” the college student said in exasperation. “You won’t be able to fight crime if you’re sick. Besides, I’ve got like three extra hoodies like that back at home, so you can keep that one.”

Miles nodded. Another breeze sent cold needles into his skin, and he pulled the hoodie on, sighing in a relief at the warm fabric. The sleeves dropped over his fingers and the hood bunched up around his neck. “Thank you,” Miles murmured shyly at the man who’d handed him the hoodie. “Really.”

The college student grinned at him. “No problem, little man.”

Snuggled up in the hoodie like that, Miles tried to ignore the few _aws_ and the one _He’s so small, what the hell,_ instead choosing to sip on his hot chocolate and warm up a bit.

It was, what, five o’clock now? He’d promised he’d be back home by six in time for dinner. Miles rested his chin on his hand, opting to look at the other people in line grabbing their drinks, smiling at a few cameras pointed his way. He wouldn’t be able to wear the hoodie outside as a civilian, at least not around people he saw regularly; no doubt photos of him wearing it would circle social media for a bit, and he didn’t want to risk getting recognized. Call him paranoid.

Miles put the cup to his lips again and tilted his head back, only to find nothing coming into his mouth. He looked at the now-empty cup for a moment, surprised at how quickly it’d gone, then shrugged and leaned down to the stand in front of Arty. “Thanks for the hot chocolate again, Arty!” Miles said earnestly, setting the cup down on the table.

Arty smiled up at Miles before taking his cup and and throwing it in the trash can behind him. “‘Course, kiddo.”

Miles sat back up on the vendor and let his legs swing over once more, playing with the hoodie strings. He said hi to a couple small children, waved at a few more cameras, and, flustered, signed an autograph.

It wasn’t until maybe a few minutes before he planned to leave that the man in the black parka spoke up. “How are you all so comfortable with him here?”

A hush fell over the crowd that had gathered by the vendor, heads turning to see who had spoken. The man looked to be in his forties, glaring at Miles with an intensity he hadn’t seen in a long time. The boy involuntarily shifted back in his seat.

“He’s got no business sittin’ up there like he owns the place,” the man continued after no one said anything, “probably giving old Arty here a headache with the crowd he’s attracting-”

“Mr. Benshire,” Arty said dryly, “You do realize more people means more hot chocolate being sold, right? In no way is this giving me a headache.”

Benshire scowled and took a step forward. “He shouldn’t _be there_ ,” he insisted.

Miles felt like he should say something. His throat clogged up at the thought and the words died at his lips.

“He’s a freak,” the man added, clenching his fists and shoving them in his pockets angrily. “Unnatural, he is, and you all just let him… let him do what he _wants_ -”

“ _Hey_ , come on, man,” a teenager called out from the front irritatingly. “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”

“You let the old Spider-Man do what he wanted,” Benshire spat, and everyone immediately fell silent. Mentioning Peter Parker and his death had always been done carefully in New York, but this man didn’t seem concerned about overstepping his boundaries. “And when he died, everyone just… forgot all the bad he did. The property damage, and vigilantism is illegal-” He bared his teeth.

Miles’ hands were shaking.

Several people bristled. “He was a _hero_ ,” someone shouted.

“And then this new guy comes along, wearing his mask and his name like it’s some kind of honor!” the man yelled. “Like Peter Parker wasn’t just sixteen when he started, wasn’t a fucking _mutant_ who attracted all sorts of villains because he was just such a damn nosy kid-”

“Alright,” Arty finally broke in, his voice firm. “Alright, man. That’s enough.”

“No, no. No, it’s _not_ ,” Benshire protested. “It’s you _kids_ who _ruin_ people’s lives, and now _you_ -” he jabbed a finger at Miles, who leaned back a bit, “-go ahead and do the _same thing,_ thinking you’re all high and mighty ‘cause you got superpowers while the rest of us are _normal and helpless_ , you fucking menace-”

“That’s _it,_ Benshire!” Arty shouted, moving around his stand to push the man back. “Get out of here, or I’m calling the cops. We don’t need you yelling at kids here.”

“Fucking make me, asshat,” Benshire snarled. “Prove to me your life is worth less than this _brat’s._ He definitely does a good job at making it feel like your’s is.”

And there it was. Miles’ spider-sense spiked in the back of his head as Benshire’s arm tensed, preparing to pull something out of the pocket his hand was in. Before he did anything, Miles had shot a web to pull Arty back, and when the knife appeared, he jumped down to grab at the man’s wrist, bending it backwards while he plucked the weapon out of his hands.

“ _Ow!_ ” Benshire screamed as Miles let go of his wrist. “You _psycho,_ you could’ve broken my arm!”

“I wouldn’t have done that,” Miles said, his voice surprisingly shaky. He looked at the knife in his hand, turned it over, and snapped the blade back in its socket. He dropped it to the ground and slammed his heal down on it, breaking it in half. (In a rather badass fashion, might he add.)

Benshire glowered at him. “I hope you die as painfully as Peter Parker did,” he spat. “I hope the world is rid of unnaturals like you. I hope-”

Before Miles could react, Arty moved forward and-

Oh, Jesus fuck. He punched him in the face.

He was out cold.

Miles stared slack-jawed at Benshire, who’d crumpled to the floor, then to Arty, who stood breathing heavily.

“ _Dios mío,_ ” Miles said aloud. “What the _hell,_ man.”

Arty grinned savagely at the man lying on the concrete. “I’ve wanted to do that for _years._ ”

All was silent for a moment. Then a few kids started to clap, hesitantly at first, only to gain more enthusiasm as more people joined in. A few whoops and cheers were thrown in, and within the next moment, Miles felt himself being swept into a hug.

“You good, kiddo?” Arty asked as he patted Miles’ shoulder.

“I, uh, yeah, I mean,” Miles stammered. A pause. “You knocked that guy out.”

“Said some pretty nasty things, eh?” Arty laughed. “I had to. You weren’t gonna.”

“I don’t like hitting civilians.”

“Even if they pull a knife on you?”

Miles stared up at him. “He didn’t pull a knife on me. He pulled a knife on _you_.”

Arty shook his head. “He wouldn’t have hurt me. We used to be college buddies. He would’ve pushed me aside and come for you. Always said he’d get Spider-Man one day.”

“Why?” Miles asked, his heart in his throat.

Arty shrugged and finally took a step back. “No idea.” He patted Miles’ shoulder. “Want another free hot chocolate?”

A laugh forced its way out of Miles’ tight throat. “ _Ha._ Nah, man. Thanks, but I still gotta eat dinner-” The lenses on his mask widened in shock. “Ah, yeah. Dinner - I gotta go-"

“Say hi to the family for me,” Arty laughed.

Miles decided not to mention how he was _totally_ an adult who _wasn’t_ going to eat dinner with his parents. “Hey, you’ll be okay, too, though, right? The cops aren’t gonna - Benshire’s not gonna press charges?”

Arty shrugged. “I’ll be fine. Most everyone got this on video, and they’ll back me up. The guy pulled a weapon on us, then once he was neutralized, he still went at it. Anyway, I doubt he’ll sue. He has money.”

Miles doubted that would be a valid enough reason not to press charges or sue, but the threat of his mother lecturing him in rapid-fire Spanish for being late to dinner was a very real one; and looking around at the other civilians, some still whooping, others smiling reassuringly at Miles, most just taking pictures, a few even approaching him to give him a quick hug - he felt, for once, that things were going to turn out okay.

He knew some people had reservations about Spider-Man, about Spider-People in general, and he understood he’d face some opposition - whether it was because he was the “new Spider-Man” or simply for his vigilantism - but he also knew he had a whole city at his back, and that if things ever got hard, he could always come back to Arty’s hot chocolate vendor and just… hang out. Have hot chocolate. Live in the moment, not as just a vigilante, but as Spider-Man who was _also_ a civilian. Who _also_ had a life here, in Brooklyn, who enjoyed greasy pizza and music and drawing and large, warm hoodies that smelled faintly of sweat and smoke.

So Miles gave another grateful grin, pulled down his mask to his chin, and swung away back home.

* * *

sunflowerbitch **imhornyforbananas** asked:what do you think of the new Spider-Man?  I'm worried. He seems to have good intentions? But I also find it kinda weird he showed up right after Peter P's death. Kinda sketchy idk  #ask#spiderman #new york doesnt need another death on their hands 94 notes 

Kasey  
  
BITCH IM FUCKING SCREAMING  
  
KASEY PICK UP UR GODDAMN PHONE JESUS CHRIST  
  
what!! what is it!!!  
  
I JUST SAW SPIDERMAN BY A HOT CHOCOLATE STAND  
  
YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE  
  
calm dOWN lmao what happened  
  
OKAY OKAY S O  
  
HE WAS SITTING ON THE VENDOR IN NOTHING BUT THAT STUPID SUIT  
  
AND HE WAS REALLY COLD CAUSE YKNOW,, WINTER  
  
AND THIS FUCKIN COLLEGE DUDE TAKES OFF HIS LIU HOODIE  
  
AND HANDS IT TO HIM  
  
oh?? my god????  
  
YEAH IKR!!!  
  
IT WAS SO BIG ON HIM HE LOOKED SO CUTE SKJFHSDJKFHDS  
  
HE WAS ALL BLUSHY AND SNUGGLED UP IN IT IM GONNA CRY HE'S LIKE TWELVE  
  
im???? sobbing?????  
  
HGFHJSGDJFFFJSDGFHJDS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact most of my chapter titles are just from different songs bc i'm uncreative haha (this episode: "Paranoid" by Emily Warren)
> 
> the "graffiti art" is watermarked w my ao3 name but if u wanna check out more of my stuff + marvel/danny phantom shitposts, i do have a [tumblr](https://d-o-t-s.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> (also i just saw the movie for the third time yeet)
> 
> have a lovely day/night!!


	4. you look like yourself, but you're somebody else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> spider-man is Dumb and jeff is Tired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOF im so sorry for getting this out so late,, just finished finals and i think the stress was getting to me bc this chapter was really hard to write for some reason?? so if the flow seems off i apologize sjhskjdgf
> 
> anyways,, 5k words as an apology lol
> 
> thanks again for all the comments!!
> 
> this episode: "You're Somebody Else" by flora cash

webslingers-go new!spidey did a short interview and it turns out he fuckin,, spray painted his suit on impulse instead of just buying/making one like a goddamn normal person. this kid will be the death of me  #can you believe spiderman was probably high for a solid week#he's so Dumb i love him #spiderman 4,657 notes 

bigphatselkie **spider-man:** trips over his own two feet, is always singing, get excited about people saying hi to him, tries on tons of different accents to disguise his voice because he knows it makes people laugh, is a genuinely nice person and tries his best to be there for new york while still insisting he could never replace peter parker  **me:** my crops are watered, my skin is clear, my children are thriving,  #i love him so much guys you have no idea#anyone who doesn't appreciate what my son does can FIGHT me #i would die for him #spiderman 598 notes 

 

* * *

“ _Hijo,_ ” Rio laughed, “slow down!”

Miles grinned sheepishly around his fajita, setting it down on the plate and wiping his mouth. “Sorry, just hungry.”

“You been eating your lunch at school?” Jeff asked him, narrowing his eyes. If there was one downside to his son attending a boarding school, it was that he had no sure way of knowing that Miles was making sure to take care of himself without calling directly.

“‘Course I have, Dad.” Miles drained half his glass of water. “And some snacks from the vending machine-”

“Healthy snacks, I hope.”

“The _healthiest.”_ A beat. “Do Takis count as healthy?”

While Rio let out a ringing laugh and smeared more guacamole onto her tortilla, Jeff stared at his son, who shoveled a fresh spoonful of chicken onto what must have been his third fajita for the night. Strange - he’d never seemed to eat more than one or two, but now, it seemed as if he hadn’t eaten in _days._

It wasn’t the first time Miles had eaten an unusual amount (aside from the expected changes that would come with a teenage boy). Last week, he’d eaten two bowls of chili instead of one. The weekend before that, two extra burgers. Jeff had even caught him at a cafe with his roommate a couple times where, at one point, he ordered four chocolate-chip muffins.

Jeff would be worried if the school had ever actually called him; he’d phoned and asked if Miles had been eating lunch, to which he always got affirmative answers. In fact, it seemed like he ate much more there, too.

So he was growing - except, like, _really_ quickly, because Jeff had never seen a teenager’s metabolism spike that much. _Ever._

He watched with a detached fascination as Miles fit half his fajita in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed within seconds.

“ _¿Cómo es la escuela para ti,_ Miles?” his mother asked.

“ _Bien, Mami_.” Miles swallowed another bite of food before answering. “School’s good, but a little stressful. We had a math test yesterday-“

“Did well on it, I hope?” Jeff cut in automatically.

Miles looked down at the table, an oddly pained expression on his face. “I hope so.”

“What do you mean, ‘you hope so?’” Jeff asked sharply, ignoring Rio’s look. “Miles, you’re a smart kid. I know you can get A’s-“

“Yeah, well, the past few weeks haven’t exactly been prime time for studying,” Miles ground out, and Jeff could’ve sworn his fork bent in his hand.

The three of them fell silent, the atmosphere laden with tension. It was no secret that Aaron’s death had hit them all hard, especially Miles, who had been closest to him. Now, even nearly two months later, Jeff still found himself lying awake at night, trying to think of where it’d all gone wrong; where he’d started to think of Aaron less of a brother and more of a stranger.

Even so, two months was a long time.

“Miles,” Jeff started, saw Rio’s glare, and softened his tone. “Son. Look at me.”

Miles slowly lifted his head, brown eyes angry and wet.

And Jeff felt like he should have lectured him on how he _made a commitment to that school,_ how he had _such a bright future,_ how he just had to apply himself, do his best, never fall behind.

Looking into those eyes, however, nearly stole his breath away, because they belonged to a stranger’s; steely, indignant, _closed off,_ showing his son was ready to defend himself to the ends of the world and never budge an inch.

“I’m proud of you for pushing through,” Jeff said instead, looking into those eyes and trying to see past the guards put up.

To his relief, Miles’ old soft expression bled through once more. “Thanks, Dad.” He picked at his food. “I don’t think I did too badly on the test.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

The table fell silent, the only sound the occasional scrape of cutlery against the plate. Jeff exchanged a few glances with Rio, then looked to his son, who’d slowed down with his eating. Miles’ free hand lay curled into a loose fist on the table, and the movement in his shoulder suggested a bouncing knee underneath the table.

Jeff frowned, first at the inclination that Miles till might have been feeling anxious, then at the realization that the tension at the table hadn’t let up at all. He racked his brain for a change of subject, landed on a memory from earlier that week.

“Rio,” Jeff said, “Do you mind if we leave some leftovers for me to take when I go on duty this Monday?”

His wife shrugged. “If we have any left. _Porque?_ ”

“I want to get some to Spider-Man,” Jeff said and jumped when Miles began to choke on his food. He started to stand up, but Miles had already managed to get the food dislodged from his throat, waving at his father to signal he was okay.

“Spider-Man?” Rio asked. “Why, is he short on food?”

“He’s really skinny, I’m worried he might not be getting enough food, what with all that exercise,” Jeff answered smoothly. “And anyway, wasn’t there something about the old Spider-Man having a really high metabolism? I think it’s safe to assume it’s the same thing with this kid.”

“What if it’s not, though?” Miles piped up, his voice an octave higher than usual. “Maybe he gets plenty of food. Maybe he borrows food from his friends, or buys his own since he’s very obviously an adult, or-” He stopped and ducked his head down into his shoulders at the stares he was being given. “ _What?_ ”

“Miles, _querido_ ,” his mother started worriedly, “are you feeling okay? Your voice sounds strange. Maybe that food-”

“ _Estoy bien, no te preocupes,”_ Miles said hurriedly, his Spanish more accidental, rushed to the point where Jeff had trouble keeping up.

“He’s very obviously _not_ an adult,” Jeff told his son sternly. “And we can never assume whether people have enough food or not.”

“ _Dad-_ ”

“Not only that,” Jeff continued as he leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful look on his face, “I wonder if his parents know he’s been doing this? He really can’t be older than, what, fourteen?”

Rio shook her head sadly. “The poor baby. Jeff, I’ll make you some extra food on top of leftovers. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the gesture. Don’t you agree, Miles?”

Miles’ eyes were blown wide, jaw slack. He whipped his head to look between his parents, cleared his throat, and said in a hoarse voice, “Yeah, uh. Definitely. Knock yourself out. What would I know about anything, anyway? _Ha_.”

Jeff narrowed his eyes. “You sure you’re feeling okay?”

“I am absolutely fine, Father,” Miles said robotically, then blinked as he realized what he’d said. “I mean, Dad. _Papá._ Hey, how was your day, by the way? Oh, wait, I forgot I have an essay due in a few days. Probably should get on that.” He began to stand up, paused. “May I be excused?”

“I… yes?” Rio said. Confusion and a little bit of worry bled across her features.

Once Miles had put his plate in the sink and scampered off to his room, Rio turned to Jeff and said in a sympathetic sigh, “Ah, Jeff, you know what this means?”

“The nervousness?”

“Yes.” His wife patted his arm, the worried look seeping away and amusement dripping into her voice. “He has a crush on Spider-Man.”

Jeff choked and quickly turned it into a laugh. “You think?”

“Hmm, maybe not.” She snickered. “But the flustered look on his face was cute. When was the last time he’s had a crush?”

“He’s thirteen, Rio. I think there’s still time for him to get a proper crush,” Jeff said, but his lips twitched as well.

Honestly, Jeff would have thought Miles’ nervousness stemmed from the fact that Jeff had been pretty vocal about his distaste for the vigilante over the last several years. But this new Spider-Man - _Spider-Kid_ \- had been a strange eye-opener for the police officer, whose previous stance on vigilantism had been a big, fat _no._

This Spider-Man, however, with his wider lenses and gangly figure and accents which had now become a sort of meme, according to the parents on the force who had internet-obsessed kids - this Spider-Man who said “I love you, officer!” and still stumbled a bit on his landings when swinging - Jeff could get used to this Spider-Man.

Not that Jeff would ever approve of Miles having a crush on a vigilante. But the speculation Rio insisted to hold was, in a way, kind of hilarious.

* * *

Miss Keisha  
@ohshefuckindead   
@PDNY Is it true u once gave spidey donuts and if that's the case, may i have some too 1:08 AM - Oct 10, 2018  23  89 

Screaming™  
@ukuplaymelele   
New york really just... adopted a spider-dude. i once said he was rly short and had abt ten ppl yelling at me. y'all just collectively decided to protect your son against anything huh. they really Did That #respect 5:46 AM - Oct 10, 2018  12  45 

damnokay  sup-dickwad sup-dickwad "not all men!" you're right, spider-man would never do this  Source: sup-dickwad #i love this bc you cant tell if theyre talking abt new or og spidey#either way theyre right #spiderman 102 notes 

 

* * *

Miles wanted to die. He wanted the ground to swallow him up and keep him there until the world was completely void of people and no one would be around to see his suffering.

“I think you’re being a little dramatic,” Ganke commented as he slurped on yet another soda. (Seriously, where did he get all those?) “It’s not like your dad knows who you are.”

“Yeah, but…” Miles sighed and pulled at the strings on his hoodie (the LIU hoodie, which he wore exclusively in his dorm or out as Spider-Man). “ _Ugh,_ I don’t know. Do you realize how awkward it is to have to swing around with two or three tupperwares of leftovers? I look ridiculous. I even let it fall on someone’s head once. And the food is stinking up the dorm!”

Ganke sniffed. After a moment, he shrugged. “It’s not that bad. And anyway, it’s extra food. What’s the big deal?”

“ _Ganke,_ ” Miles drew out, trying his best not to let his voice whine. He placed hands and feet on the ceiling a few feet above him (perks of getting the top bunk), then dragged himself up and over the bed railing, repositioning himself in a sitting position on the ceiling a few inches from Ganke’s head. “This is _serious._ What if he finds out? Like, I don’t know, through smelling the food? Or he notices I’ve been struggling with taking the food with me and insists on walking me home, only to realize I sleep in the same dorm as his son? What if-”

“Okay, wait, wait.” Ganke reached up to pull at Miles’ head, who stood a little straighter to be level with Ganke’s eyes. “You’re _overreacting._ It’s gonna be fine, dude. He’s not gonna find out.”

“You sure?”

“Hey, you’re basically a pro at this. You’ve been keeping your grades up - mostly - and so far the staff haven’t been on your ass for sneaking out at night. No one actually really knows what you sound like because of the dumb changes you do to your voice. You never really stick around too much after fights - well, okay, that’s a lie, but at least you’re not big on interviews. That last one was a trainwreck, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Miles muttered, then, in a more grateful voice, “Thank you, Ganke. Yeah. Yeah, I think I’m good. You’re right.”

“You got it, buddy,” Ganke said with a grin, letting go of Miles’ head and spinning around in this chair. “Jeez, I can’t believe I have to keep comforting you like this. You’re _Spider-Man._ You can do anything.”

“Not everything,” Miles murmured. In his mind’s eye, he saw an enormous, clawed beast, a tiny figure jumping across beams and swinging to the ceiling; an explosion, desperate blue eyes, a large fist coming down on his hero’s chest and head-

“‘Course you can!” You’re killin’ it, man!”

Miles gave a small smile, unclenched his fists. “Thanks.”

“Now how about that homework?” Ganke leaned back in his chair to grab a packet from physics that day. “Oh, gross, we gotta do all this?”

“Looks like it.” Miles peered at the paper handed to him, internally groaning at all the extended answer questions they had to do. “When is this due?”

“Eh, Friday, I think?” A beat. “We should’ve started early.”

Miles sighed and grabbed the pencil Ganke handed to him, sitting back on the heels of his feet as he opted to stay on the ceiling for a while. Strangely enough, the pull of gravity helped him focus a bit more on the words on the paper.

They worked on homework for a good hour and a half, Miles quickly finishing off the easier questions before scrawling out half-assed answers on the harder ones. “I’ll come back to it tomorrow morning,” he said to Ganke as he threw the packet down on the desk.

Ganke frowned, peeking at the pages filled with answers. “Man, you done already? Ah, wait, no, this is totally wrong.”

Miles laughed. “You can look at the answers if you want. I’m gonna go on patrol.”

“You sure? They’ll be coming to check soon.”

“Cover for me, put in some pillows, I don’t know,” Miles said, already on the floor and stripping to reveal the black suit underneath. After a moment’s hesitation, he put the LIU hoodie back on. Today had been cold, and now that the sun was going down, no doubt it would be even cooler.

After checking to make sure no one was outside to see anything, he slid the window open and placed his hands and feet on the side of the building to crawl up to the roof. Once there, he took a running leap off the side to the next rooftop, then the next, so on and so forth, doing his best not to hesitate so as not to trip on anything or lose momentum.

Miles jumped from one rooftop to the side of the next building, running on the side of the wall, up and up and up till he reached the top and-

He shot a web and jumped and _fell,_ adrenaline pumping through him as he rushed towards the ground - only to be yanked up by the web, up and around a building as he twisted his body to avoid collision, going faster than any car below. He whooped as another web was shot out, steadily climbing higher into the sky as the buildings he passed grew taller.

Miles waved at a few pedestrians on the sidewalk as he passed above their heads, laughing in spite of himself when a teenage boy dropped his coffee in shock. He raised his legs up close to himself when narrowly shooting past a gargoyle, spat a hoodie string out of his mouth as he made another turn.

Just as he was forgetting why he’d left his dorm in favor of just enjoying the feeling of the air rushing past him, his spider-sense buzzed to life in the back of his head. Miles snapped his head to his right and habitually shot out another web to direct his motions, making his way to where his spider-sense had alerted him.

He reached a scene that had become familiar to him in the past few weeks - honestly, what was it about New York that had people so eager to rob banks?

A few police cars were already stationed outside the small building. A lean officer lounged against his car, speaking to a colleague, who looked like she was just about to slap someone, if the tension in her arms was anything to go by.

Miles edged closer to the edge of the roof he crouched on to catch the conversation below. Whatever they were talking about had the woman’s eyes twitching to the point where Miles worried she’d lose it if the guy didn’t shut his mouth soon.

“This is a _hostage situation,_ ” she said in a slow voice as if talking to a toddler. “We can’t just go in guns blazing. We need to try and negotiate first-”

“You and I both know these guys won’t care about negotiations,” the second officer argued. “We’ve dealt with them before, they’re trigger-happy and dangerous!”

“What do you expect us to do? A _surprise attack_?”

The man snapped his fingers. “Exactly! They’ll never see us coming, we’ll get everyone out and celebrate later with cake or something.”

“Jesus Christ, Peralta-“

“Hey,” Miles finally butt in, landing lightly on the roof of the police car, “you said there were hostages?”

The officers stared at him in shock for a moment, the man - Peralta - going, “ _Holy_ shit,” before the woman snapped out of her daze, gave him a small nod, and said, “Yeah, about a dozen people.”

“Are the perps armed?”

Peralta snorted. “Oh, you bet.”

“I’m on it.” Miles jumped off the car and swung towards the building before the officers could say anything else.

The bank was surrounded by police cars on all sides, though seeing as how none of them had entered the building yet, Miles guessed they were still waiting on negotiations to begin. His father had dealt with more than a few hostage situations; he used to tell Miles the criminals rarely got away with actually hurting anyone, usually just in it for the money. If Peralta’s words were true, though, Miles would have to be extra careful.

He landed on the side of the building and slipped into camo mode to peer through a window. This one was one of the only ones he could see through, since the criminals had covered the rest of the ones by the ground in a black curtain. Smart, if they didn’t want anyone from the outside to see what was going on. They probably hadn’t bothered with this one or the others along the same level either because they couldn’t reach or they didn’t have enough curtains. Or they just thought no one would be tall enough to look inside, anyway. (Or they were lazy.)

They hadn’t counted on a teenager with invisibility and the power to stick to walls.

Miles counted the number of criminals inside - assuming only those who were masked were the ones he would have to focus on, he counted about five in total. A fair amount, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

Probably.

Miles waited until the masked people had turned away from his direction and held his breath as he tested the window - and deflated as it wouldn’t budge. He couldn’t very well break it - that would alert them to his presence immediately.

What to do?

Miles crawled along the side of the building, still invisible, spying through whatever window he could. About a minute later, near the bottom, he reached what he recognized as a ventilation shaft leading outside.

Of course.

Two minutes later and he’d removed the lid from the wall using his super strength. Another minute and he had slipped inside, thanking himself for not eating all the food his father had given him.

He let his spider-sense guide him, the buzzing growing more insistent with the movements in the building, so Miles knew when he was in most danger of a gun. It was irritating, at times, how unreliable his sixth sense was - sometimes it alerted him to a danger way too early, or too late, or simply for things that weren’t as threatening, like a puddle on the ground; sometimes, like today, it was much more specific. Much like the first time he’d experienced it: rattling, all-consuming, pinpointing every potential threat in the room until a single pinprick in the back of his mind appeared, and the wall had exploded into his back.

Miles’ head snapped to the right as a particularly loud shout was heard somewhere close to him. A man’s gruff voice entered the mix, then a younger scream, the cock of a gun-

Miles slammed his heel into the metal sheet below him and plummeted.

He fell rather ungracefully onto a masked man, whose gun went off, the bullet slamming into the wall opposite him. A lurch in his stomach quickly disappeared when Miles righted himself and realized the shot had gone off far above the hostages’ heads.

His spider-sense, which had begun to buzz even louder as he dropped, suddenly _screamed,_ and Miles reflexively flipped up into the air before another criminal could shoot at him. He let out an indignant shout - _He nearly shot the hostages!_ \- and grabbed at the guy who’d shot at him with two strands of web, sweeping him off his feet.

It was only after Miles noticed the utter chaos in the room - confused expressions, shouts, even the hostages whipping their heads around without actually _looking_ at him - that he remembered he was still in camo mode.

Miles took the opportunity to grab the gun from the man still groaning on the ground and bend it under his grip, an amused grin curving across his lips as the criminals screamed louder. Then again, a gun bending itself in the air _would_ look pretty weird.

“It’s that _damn_ Spider-Kid!” one of them by the back yelled, hefting her gun and pointing the muzzle in Miles’ general direction - which just so happened to be where the hostages were.

He immediately released his invisibility. “ _Hey,_ yo, I’m over here!”

Miles ducked down as he sprinted to the other side of the building, sighing in relief as the criminals put their guns on him instead of the hostages - except now he had four guns on him, _shit-_

The next few minutes went by in a blur; Miles leaped onto the wall and dodged as many bullets as he could, dropping down to kick a few of the criminals as his spider-sense honed in on the dangers. It shouted _LEFT_ at just the right moment and screamed _LOOK OUT_ when a criminal he’d webbed up managed to grab a small knife in his pocket and stab at him through the webbing. Miles partook in a deadly dance, taking care never to stay too close to the hostages, instead keeping the criminals’ attention on him.

The smaller one did attempt to get to the hostages in order to keep Miles from attacking any longer, but as he stood still, a little girl was brave enough to kick the criminal in the shin, catching him off guard and allowing Miles the opportunity to shoot a web at him charged with venom strike.

The girl stared up at Miles with awestruck eyes as he gave her a thumbs up, and in his hesitation, another criminal shot at his direction again, towards the _crowd,_ and Miles’ spider-sense shouted at him to _protect them!_ _  
_

He jumped as far as he could, right in the path of the bullet, and allowed himself to be shot in the arm.

Miles braced himself for the pain he expected - after all, it was a _bullet,_ a piece of metal tearing through your body, so why shouldn’t there be pain? But all he felt was an intense pressure around his left bicep, dangerously close to his shoulder, like someone had chucked a particularly fast pebble at him, and heat began to spread in a radius around the wound; it buzzed, though he wasn’t entirely sure if it was really just his spider-sense in his head.

Miles snapped out of his reverie as a whoop sounded from not too far away. He whirled around to see the woman who’d shot him practically jumping up and down in glee.

Frowning, he said, “Okay, _now_ you’re gonna get it.”

* * *

Coraline Dumpster Fire  
@stopmotionfangirl   
100% I'd let Spider-Man rail me 🤤😍😍 8:09 AM - Oct 14, 2018  2  11 

Binch we been knew  
@verymuchprettyugly   
@stopmotionfangirl he's a fucking minor, you disgusting piece of shit. 12:56 PM - Oct 14, 2018  5  17 

* * *

_Are you serious? The idiot went and got himself shot?_

“I can’t believe you,” Jefferson groaned.

Spider-Man shrugged from his position against the ambulance, looking over the paramedic’s shoulder and at Jeff with wide mask lenses. “I wasn’t gonna let anyone get hurt.” He winced. “Even if the bullet _did_ hit someone.”

“Hey, it barely broke their skin,” the paramedic said as she inspected his arm, the suit’s sleeve cut off at the shoulder and tossed to the side, along with the hoodie. “Anyway, it’s a win-win, since the bullet going through you probably just saved yourself a nasty surgery.”

“Nice,” Spider-Man said, much to Jeff’s chagrin.

After gathering up the criminals Spider-Man had webbed up, his colleagues had gone to either help transport them to the police station or help out with paramedics and calm down the hostages. Cindy, a long-time friend of Jeff’s, had cocked her head towars Spider-Man, who’d chosen to actually let himself be looked at by paramedics. “Go help your son, or whatever.”

“He’s not my son,” Jeff responded irritatedly, ignoring Cindy’s shout of _You sure act like his dad!_ in favor of going over to see how the kid was doing.

“You still got _shot,_ ” he now lamented. “And you probably won’t be able to use that arm for a while. It was _really_ close to the shoulder joint, I was told. A little less muscle mass and you would’ve been out of commission for much longer. And what about home? They don’t know you’re doing this, how are you gonna explain to them you got a freakin’ _bullet_ wound-”

“Officer,” Spider-Man interrupted, his voice more than a little embarrassed. “I’m fine. I heal fast. And I, uh, am not seeing family till this weekend.” A pause. “Since-I’m-an-adult-I-mean.” The last part was rushed, voice squeaky.

Jeff chose to ignore the slip-up; nearly everyone who had spent more than two seconds with the vigilante knew he was _far_ from an adult, and they didn’t let him forget it. As for whether he was telling the truth about not seeing his family till the weekend, he could mull on that later. “You still need to take it easy,” he said instead, putting on his signature _Dad Voice,_ as both Miles and Rio called it.

Even through the mask, Jeff knew the little shit was rolling his eyes at him. “I’m _fine_ -”

“Actually, Officer Davis here is right,” the paramedic interrupted,  grabbing a roll of gauze. “You’re refusing to go to the hospital, despite having been shot close to a shoulder joint, where two major tendons are attached. Even though the bullet went through, there’s a definite chance that you did some damage to your arm, and I’d feel much more comfortable if you at least let us take an X-ray.”

Spider-Man fidgeted in place, looking like he had half a mind to draw his arm back and vault over the buildings, away from everyone. But Jeff caught his eye with his own stern stare, and after a moment, he slumped in defeat.

“My wife is a nurse,” Jeff told the kid. “I can ask her to look at it. We can do that, right?” He looked to the paramedic.

“Rio Morales?” She nodded. “If it’ll make little guy here feel better, absolutely.”

They looked to Spider-Man, who sat a little straighter under their stares. “Alright,” he said in a small voice. “Okay. But only for an X-ray. Promise?”

_Promise?_ His high, scared voice pierced Jeff’s ears and stuck him in the heart, taking away his breath. This vigilante was so _young,_ and though many forgot it with how high he could jump and how hard he could hit, Jeff doubted he’d even been in high school very long.

Spider-Man was still staring at him. He gave the kid a reassuring smile. “I promise.”

* * *

In hindsight, wheeling a tiny, bleeding vigilante with one arm wrapped in bandages probably wasn’t a very good way to lay low.

His arm had finally begun to throb not too long after they’d loaded him up in the ambulance, the heat growing stronger and a numbing sensation spreading across his shoulder. Every time he moved it, however, hot spikes of pain would shoot up and down his arm, and eventually, Miles gave up on movement and just sat as still as he could while the car rumbled along the street.

The paramedic - Mary, as Miles learned was her name - wheeled him into the hospital, insisting he sit on a wheelchair instead of walking the distance (“You must be so _tired_!”). Meanwhile, his father gave anyone who stared too long a stern look, and coupled with the haste with which they wheeled him through the hospital, they weren’t questioned too much. Mary took a few minutes to talk to the people working at the front desk, asking for Rio Morales, and soon enough, she’d wheeled him into the X-ray room with instructions to stay put, then left him and Jeff alone to… well, Miles wasn’t quite sure where she’d gone off to, but he hoped it wasn’t to arrange a room. He’d made it explicitly clear he wouldn’t stay longer than necessary.

Plus, his father had promised, and if there was one thing Jefferson Davis did, it was keep his promises.

Speaking of his father, Miles tried very hard not to cringe under his scrutinizing gaze.

“I _told_ you to be careful,” he reprimanded the teenager for what felt like the millionth time.

Miles was about to whine at him (like the _adult_ he was), but was cut short by the appearance of his mother in the doorway, mouth pinched, shoulders tense, curly hair pulled back into a tighter ponytail than usual. Stressed.

“ _Hola_ , Spider-Man,” Rio said in a tone filled with tension, slathered with fake-confidence, a soothing smile. Miles could immediately see how tired she was. “Heard you got shot in the arm.”

Miles shrugged with his good shoulder. “Apparently.”

“Rio, he needs an X-ray,” Jeff started to say.

“I know he needs an X-ray, _querido,_ ” Rio said with an amused twitch of her lips. “Now, I can’t have you too close to the radiation, so why don’t you step outside for a moment?”

Jeff flicked his eyes between the two of them for a moment, obviously waging an internal battle on whether or not he wanted to leave Miles alone, but the trust towards his wife inevitably won, and within moments, he’d disappeared from the room.

“How does your arm feel?” Rio asked Miles and prodded his bicep, who hissed in pain. “ _Ai,_ that bad, huh? Can you move it?”

Miles lifted his forearm, then tried his shoulder, and only succeeded in a few inches before pain lanced through him and he let it drop, biting his tongue to keep himself from yelping.

Rio put a hand on her lips. “Okay. Mobility is limited, but you can still move it more than I’d expected, so that’s a good sign. I’m going to take an X-ray now, okay, Spidey? Here, I need you to position your arm this way - yes, just do as well as you can for now, we’ll figure out the specifics - here, put this on your chest, it protects it from the radiation. I need you to stay still like that for me… hold on a sec. I’m going to take a couple pictures, you might have to move around every once in a while.”

The whole procedure took maybe five minutes total, where Miles tried his hardest to suck up the pain and lie as still as possible. He could hear his father pacing outside.

Rio then ushered him out of the X-ray room and into a smaller ward to clean his wound properly, taking special care not to push too hard on the skin, muttering under her breath about kids throwing themselves into dangerous situations. Miles found it hard to focus on much of what she was saying, feeling slightly light-headed, his arm still spasming and heat forcing its way from his shoulder into his chest and lungs, up his spine, his head, and the air grew thick, vision dancing with black spots-

When he came to, it was to his mother and father speaking over the bed he was lying in.

“He’s so young,” Rio murmured, her voice strained and cracking.

“I know.”

“Jeff. He’s _really_ young.” She sighed. “Take a guess.”

“I thought maybe fourteen? Fifteen at the most. A short teenager.” Jeff paused. “He’s younger than that, isn’t he, though?”

“I think you know. You spend so much time around him.” Miles felt a hand on his still-masked forehead. “I get it. You don’t want to admit it, either.”

Heat. A pounding in his head.

“Admit what?”

Her laugh was void of humor. “That we’re allowing a child to throw himself into danger like this. Every day. Just like Peter Parker.”

“Rio-”

“He’s going to die, Jeff, if he doesn’t stop. He’s going to die like Peter did. Only he’ll be much, much younger, because he’s so much more excited and spirited and… and.”

“He still has that spark in him,” Jeff said. “Like I see in Miles. God, you’re right. You’re right. This can’t go on.”

The voices were distant, as if he were listening to someone talk in a dream.

“He’s a _child.”_ Rio’s voice cracked. “I wonder if his parents know.”

“They don’t.”

A beat. “ _Mierda._ This kid is going to die.”

His father’s next words, loud and determined, pierced the cloud that swathed Miles’ head. “Only if I let him.”

Miles lost consciousness once more.

* * *

lordfarquadscock  cookiecuttergorl kings-crown friendly reminder that spider-man (the new one) is definitely a minor and we don't condone minors putting them into dangerous situations like vigilantism. having superpowers doesn't give you a free pass and the people saying "omg look at my baby go" are basically allowing the same kind of behavior that got og spider-man killed.  crappilylayeredart Spider-man is clearly a minor and I genuinely dont understand why some people dont see it?? like. There's a cut-off age for how old you look in terms of teenage years. i've seen fourteen year olds look like they could be high school seniors. I've seen seniors look like they could be freshmen or sophomores. But this guy? He's gangly, awkward, his arms and legs are too long, and he purposefully lowers his voice. He's either going through puberty or just hit it. he's a kid.  hello-moon-man reminder that peter parker was only sixteen when he started. and this one is even younger. this is a child who's jumping into burning buildings and getting shot at, and no one's doing anything about it.  freelovebabey This.  Source: kings-crown #we eat at op's tonight#we 👏 don't 👏 condone 👏 minors 👏 getting 👏 themselves 👏 into 👏 dangerous 👏situations👏 #spiderman #discourse 12,345 notes 

 

* * *

He hadn’t ended up needing surgery.

“Your bones are _incredibly_ dense, though I guess that’s expected with someone of your… biology,” Rio explained to him. “And coupled with the bullet going through your bicep, count yourself lucky you only had what looks like _now_ to be a hairline fracture - I guess you have some sort of healing factor, because the entry and exit wounds have already begun to heal over, there isn’t too much internal damage as a whole, your tendons look fine, and, like I already mentioned, your bones look to have already begun to heal from a nastier break.”

“Nice,” Miles said, because he honestly had no idea how to respond to that without sounding like he was completely surprised at how quickly he was healing (which he was).

They were standing in the lobby of the hospital, both of his parents in their work uniforms, Miles in his tattered suit, all three of them feeling miles away from one another. Miles rolled his shoulder a little more, feeling a twinge of satisfaction at how it’d already grown easier to move. If he was careful with how he slept, most of the damage could be healed overnight.

“Do we still not know why he passed out?” Jeff asked worriedly, hovering over Miles’ shoulder like a mother hen.

Rio wrinkled her nose. “I’m assuming it’s because this was the first time your body had to kick your healing factor into gear so quickly. You haven’t really had many big injuries before now.”

Miles shrugged, immediately followed by a wince. “ _Ah._ Ow. Okay, yeah, I think I’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt as much as it did before.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his good hand. “Am I free to go?”

Rio’s expression softened. “ _Sí._ Jeff, do you want to drive him home?”

“Oh, no, it’s okay, I can totally swing-”

“What? You insane?” Jeff shook his head. “I’m driving you. You can tell me where to stop a block or two away if you’re so worried about me finding out your identity.”

Miles ducked his head and grumbled at the ground. After several seconds of silence, he realized neither adult was going to budge, and so sighed in defeat. “Alright.”

To his surprise, Rio swept forward and gave him a light hug. “Get plenty of rest!”

“I, uh, okay,” Miles stuttered, stiff and praying she’d let go soon because _oh God what if she recognizes me through the shape of my back or something she always hugs me at home shit shit shitshitshit-_

She let go. Miles let out a breath of relief (only, like, not _obviously_ so, because he didn’t want to seem rude).

After Jeff gave his wife a peck on the cheek, he steered Miles towards the front door of the hospital. Miles called back over his shoulder, “ _¡Gracias por todo!”_

And immediately swore under his breath.

_You idiot? You moron? She isn’t supposed to know you can speak Spanish? Great, now she probably has another thing to add to her list of suspicions, I hate myself-_

“Oh, you speak Spanish?” Jeff said lightly as he opened back door to the police car for Miles to get into. “That’s cool. I got a son who speaks Spanish, too.”

“Oh, yeah, uh, well, you see.” God, he was so bad at this. “I mean, that’s cool! Cool. Yes.”

Jeff rolled his eyes. “You’re a weird guy, Spider-Man.”

Miles plopped down on his usual seat in the back, leaned against the headrest, and let out a delighted gasp as he noticed what lay beside him. “My hoodie!”

Jeff laughed. “Yeah, picked it up on the way to the hospital. Thought you might like it.”

“Thanks!” Miles hurriedly put the hoodie on, snuggling into the warm fabric.

The ride was silent - except for the music on the radio, that is, though Miles made an effort not to sing along, as he usually would. He watched as his father drove past the Foam Party cafe, Brooklyn Middle, a lamppost that was famous for the stickers teenagers put on it (Jeff had once caught Miles putting his own on there and made him peel off every sticker on the post as punishment), until three blocks away from Visions Academy, where Miles said he could be dropped off.

“I’ll see you around, Spidey,” Jeff told him as he got out of the car.

“Thanks for everything, officer,” Miles said sincerely. “And thanks for keeping your promise.” As he turned to leave, Jeff called back once more.

“My door’s always open,” Jeff said. “You know my address, I’ve caught you spying on me before - don’t give me that look, it’s not like you’d have the guts to actually hurt me, anyway.” He sighed. “My son is at a boarding school during the week.” A pause. “His room is empty during that time. So, uh, if you need a place to crash, somewhere to heal and get food, you can come to us.”

Miles wasn’t sure whether to feel touched at the offer or offended that his father had so willingly given up his room. He chose to go with a little bit of both, though when he spoke, his voice held only gratitude. “Thanks, Officer.” He swallowed. “That means a lot, actually.”

“Call me Jeff,” his father suggested.

Miles nearly laughed out loud. “I’m gonna stick with Officer, if that’s okay.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “But seriously, thanks. And, uh, also… thanks for the food this past week. Your wife makes killer enchiladas.”

Jeff laughed. “I know, right? One day I’ll get her to open up a restaurant or something. When we’re both done saving lives.” All of a sudden, his light expression left his face. “Would you ever consider that?”

“Opening up a restaurant?”

“No.” His voice held no amusement.

Miles stared at him for a moment, focused on touching his fingertips together inside the large pocket of his hoodie, feeling the micro hairs only skin as sensitive as his could feel. “No. I don’t think I can stop, Officer.”

“Why not?” Jeff’s voice was almost pleading.

Miles bit his lip. The lenses of his mask narrowed. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

His father stared at him a moment longer, his expression near-unreadable. Then his expression broke and he closed his eyes tightly a moment, pursed his lips. Finally, he let his face relax. “The world doesn't deserve you, kid.”

Miles cracked a grin. “Have a good night, Officer.”

“You too.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, kid.”

Before Miles could react to that retort, Jeff had rolled up the window to his car and drove off, back home, to where Miles would go in a few days again.

Tomorrow morning, no doubt, he’d get a call from home about how Spider-Man had ended up in their care for a few hours. He’d act surprised and a little hurt at not having the chance to have met him, too, but inevitably yawn and make up some excuse about how he hadn’t gotten much sleep that night due to studying. Then his father would make some sort of comment about continuing to work hard and his mother would promise a big bowl of nachos for him and his friends next time he visited, if he did well on his next test. And they’d hang up, and Miles would go to class, trying to ignore the ache in his arm, if it hadn’t already healed by then.

For now, however, he would go to bed. (And apologize to Ganke for being out so late.) He’d mull over his father’s words and how he seemed _so much more comfortable_ around this new Spider-Man, the vigilante he’d always hated, and how he’d literally offered Miles’ room for him to stay in when needed. Which was still a little annoying, but since the sentiment was so nice, Miles figured he could let it slide for once.

And this weekend, he’d go home, hug his parents, eat his mother’s food, and pray to God they weren’t right about him dying younger than Peter Parker had.

But with his father by his side, even if Jeff didn’t know who Spider-Man really was, Miles felt a little less afraid.

* * *

fuckin loser lmaooo   
  
lucas im funckin g shakngi   
  
what  
  
are you high  
  
b r uh   
  
did you see the newss   
  
no what happened  
  
dude youre fuckin high lmao  
  
spidey totaly got shot inf the arm hhe like,.,, was wearnin ur hoodie   
  
there's a hoel in ur hooodie lol press f to pay rescpects ha ah   
  
what  
  
im going to have a stroke  
  
lmaoO F   
  
i cant belive youre high rn weve got an eight am lecture tomorrow  
  
oof   
  
end me  
  
F   
  
hope spideys ok tho  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes rio is also a radiology nurse and even if she wasn't this is a different universe so i do what i want 
> 
> ya gal figured out how to wiggle a useable URL out of self-made images so expect more memes in the future! the street art from chapter three should be visible now too!
> 
> have a lovely day/night! it's 3 am im exhausted lol


	5. my heart will stay right here with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @raspberrycum: WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON
> 
> @realspiderman [replying to @raspberrycum]: mood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sony held both me and tom holland at gunpoint till i finished writing this
> 
> (NOTE: i'm changing my username from everythingspiteful to something relating to the word "dots" to fit the alias i have for myself on literally every other social media lmao. so if u see this story w a different username relating to that, it's still me!)

boycott disney  
@hellobootlickers   
these conspiracies on new!spidey bein a fuckin,, 9 year old is the funniest goddamn thing i've ever seen. the idea of a literal toddler beating these criminals' asses is my absolute favorite thing 2:34 PM - Oct 17, 2018  302  899 

bde (big dumbass energy)  
@gayandstupid   
if spider-man is like 12 then that means my little sister who has a huge crush on him might actually have a chance with him and i'm not mentally prepared for that possibility 3:11 PM - Oct 17, 2018  29  55 

imnotreal does...... does spider man play fortnite.........  #i cant stop thinking about this#it's been three days i havent slept #imagine ur tryna get that victory royale and you hear fuckin spidermans voice over the mic #spidermanthesecond #spiderman 1,014 notes 

 

* * *

 

Sometimes Miles wondered what it would have been to have the Spider-Man of _his_ universe teach him. _Show him the ropes._

Because while Peter B had certainly been a blessing, had taught him many things, had helped him grow into a better and bigger person, more matured… he could only stay for a few days. And there was still radio silence on the other side of the multiverse - Peni had mentioned cross-dimensional chatting on one of the days they were staying at May’s, but so far, Miles didn’t see how that would be possible.

This Earth’s Peter Parker had died too young. Miles knew it, the media knew it, everyone and their mother knew it. An _grad student._ Studying _chemistry._ He had started being Spider-Man when he was _sixteen._

(Also, it was incredibly unfair that, according to May, Peter had been a “late bloomer” and still relatively wimpy at fifteen and sixteen, yet he could, somehow, pull off looking like an adult in the suit. Miles had to insist pretty much every day that no, he was not, in fact, eleven years old.)

(Was it really _that_ hard to believe? He didn’t look _that_ young, did he? Even with a mask on? These were the things that kept him up at night.)

But back to his original point: Would Blond Peter have acted the same way Peter B had? Not likely, right? It’s not like they all had the same personality - Noir, too, was another Peter, yet he and B had definitely acted differently. Would Blond Peter have acted more mature, despite being younger than B? Would he have given him the same tips about baby powder? 

And then there were the more personal questions. What had his life in school been like? How had he been able to do both vigilantism every night _and_ keep up with his studies - and in _high school,_ no less? Miles was still in eighth grade. He got the impression that middle school was easier than high school. Not only that, he’d be attending the same school for his “high school” years. It would be even harder than normal. Preppy boarding school, and all that.

Ganke never left his side, though, which Miles supposed he should be grateful about. Peter never really had anyone till later, did he? Peter B had some people in his life early on, sure, but in the end, they hadn’t really known him enough to know he was Spider-Man, right? 

Miles supposed, through it all, that he really was quite lucky. He had May (and MJ, at times, the few days when he actually saw her, though the atmosphere was a little too awkward for the both of them to really exchange many words together), and Ganke. And, hopefully, in the future, his parents - but only once he really got the hang of it all, so that he wouldn’t worry them as much, and definitely once his father agreed with vigilantism more. 

Ha. Right.

At least his arm felt much better - after a good month or two of taking it easy, as his father reminded him every time he swung by, the throbbing had completely faded and the wound healed to little more than a pale, circular scar. Ganke had taken the longer hours he spent at the dorms bemoaning how this wouldn’t have happened if he’d just had a _guy in the chair,_ whatever that meant, to tell him where the firepower was coming from. 

“I coulda, you know, hacked into the cameras, or whatever,” he had said, slurping on a milkshake from the cafe down the road, while Miles sat in bed rolling the tense muscles out of his shoulder. “Told you where they were gonna shoot.”

“I have a spider-sense?” Miles dug his knuckles into a particularly tight spot by his underarm. “Don’t really need to see cameras if I can sense the bullets behind me, dude.”

Ganke snorted. “Like that helped.”

Weekends had certainly grown more awkward. Coming home for the first time since he’d been shot had been a play of walking on eggshells whenever he was around his parents, blaming his stiffness on the uncomfortable mattresses at Visions Academy - prompting his father on a rant about how with all the money the school had, surely they could afford to pay for better back support for the students!

His mother was worse, however. She practically hovered over him, keeping an eye on him for what seemed every second of the day. Her eyes had narrowed suspiciously the first time she’d brought up Spider-Man’s visit and he’d feigned surprise (" _Woah, cool! I mean - not cool, hope he’s okay, but, y’know, it’s pretty neat that you guys got to take care of him. Not that he’s really that cool, I guess, vigilantism isn’t all that legal, ha! Ah,_ mierda - _sorry, Mamá-”_ ). 

Nerve-wracking, definitely. Nothing he couldn’t handle, though. And he had gone on patrol not too long after the initial wound, with little more than some soreness for the next few nights. Nothing he couldn’t handle. Especially when May’s famous tea was involved.

It was a few days before winter break that Ganke convinced Miles to stay in the dorms for an hour longer than usual, thanks to neither of them having much homework - a blessing, really, what with the load of work they’d been handed over the past few months. After the initial burst of guiltiness, which was soon curbed after Ganke pointed out that he’d still be going on patrol at his usual times, just without having to do homework beforehand, the two ended up sitting on the floor of the dorm, various snacks in hand while they browsed social media and collectively laughed at the edits and comments made of Miles’ superhero persona.

“Dude, dude, dude - look at, look at this,” Ganke wheezed, pointing at the computer screen, which showcased a Tumblr post he’d come across - why Ganke had a Tumblr, Miles would never know, since he never actually posted anything.

i-lost-mybitchass-sonagain **spiderman, after getting shot:** [coughing up blood] it be like that sometimes  #mood#spiderman #incorrect quotes 809 notes 

Miles snorted, then let out a real laugh as he looked at the notes. “Eight hundred? Jesus Christ, man. I feel honored.”

“People’s memes about you are getting more clout than your actual superhero escapades, I swear.” Ganke absentmindedly opened a chips bag, took a couple for himself, then handed it over for Miles. “Only a heathen like you would like sour cream and onion.”

“You’re eating it too,” Miles pointed out before stuffing a handful in his mouth, the chips crunching loudly as he bit down.

“Y’know what you should do?” Ganke asked, ignoring Miles’ comment. 

“What?”

Ganke reached over to his computer, opened a new tab to Twitter, and pushed the screen towards Miles. “There. Go ahead.”

Miles stared blankly at the screen. “What?”

“You heard me.” A small grin. “Make an account. We’re getting you online. People are making memes with no substance - why not bring the real thing on? Much more source material to work from.”

Miles laughed and shook his head. “As sweet as that would be, I can’t risk it. Anyone could hack into it and get my IP address-”

“One,” Ganke interrupted, “I don’t think you know just how hard that is. Two, I know computers, and Peter did too - I’m sure we could find a way to get this, like, untraceable. Point is, the fans want this.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Miles sighed dramatically. “You’re totally right. Can’t leave the fans hanging.”

Ganke snickered. “We’ll get it set up. In the meantime, I found this great hashtag, _spidermanthesecond,_ and it’s got an _arsenal_ of memes to look through…”

* * *

satans-bitch  fishouttawater imnotreal does...... does spider man play fortnite.........  rennaissancefairvers2 the implication that spider-man would play fortnite and not minecraft is absolutely horrendous and you should be ashamed of yourself  Source: imnotreal #DAMN GO OFF JSFHKJDSFHSDK#i could imagine him playing both tbh #spiderman#minecraft 1,023 notes 

henlopheasant Honestly the funniest thing about new!spidey are his accents like we know they don't work, he knows they don't work, he does it now bc he started and can't stop it's like one of those situations where you're like "i've started saying this phrase ironically and now can't really stop" except it's with bad accents,, he doesn't even make an effort to sound good like you can see the light leave his eyes (mask?) every time he has to speak on camera and it's hilarious  #pheasant speaks#spiderman 3,465 notes 

pietro dennysemployee moreat11 **literally anyone:** haha ur kinda small!! :) aren't u really young?? hehe ur voice is so high aw baby  **spidey:** Source: moreat11 #PLEASE LET THE POOR BOY BE HE IS TRYING SO HARD TO BE TOUGH SKKSDJKS#spiderman #reblogged 5,676 notes 

 

* * *

“I think it’s a great idea.”

Miles blinked in surprise as May took a sip from her mug. “Really? ‘Cause I was, like, half joking.”

They were sitting in her living room, the afternoon light filtering in through the curtains, mugs of tea in both their hands. Miles, in his suit, had just got out of school twenty minutes ago and decided to swing ( _h_ _a_ ) by May’s for bit, partly out of the guilt he felt for not visiting very often anymore. Between school, Spider-Man, and his father, he spent less time than he would have liked with the woman who had done _so much_ for him in the wake of her son’s death.

“Peter tried the social media thing for a while,” May continued, idly tapping on her mug as she lowered it. “It didn’t quite work, but that’s because he doesn’t do well with a lot of attention, and fake accounts were running rampart. People had a hard time believing it was him, even with the selfies he put up as proof. And anyway, he listened to police chatter. He didn’t have much need for social media, no one really to interact with.

“But _you-_ ” May pointed a finger at him, “-you’re younger than him and I’m sure much more versed in social media than he was. Plus, there aren’t as many fake accounts these days, probably to respect his memory, which I appreciate. If you can spin it positively, it could do wonders for the public eye. Plus,” she added, a wicked gleam in her eye, “if you do something dumb, people can tease you for that instead of how young you are.”

“How young I _look,_ ” Miles argued, slightly offended at how funny May seemed to find the situation. “I am _not_ eleven.”

“Two years is barely a difference, Miles.”

“ _Almost_ three. I’ll be fourteen in a few months.” _Why does this keep happening to me-_

May let out a laugh, light with the occasional snort. “Have you heard back from the rest of the group?” she asked, letting the subject drop.

Miles sighed and set down his mug. “No. I’m not sure if Peni found a way to communicate with us and just can’t get to all our universes, or if she even managed one.”

“Give it time,” May said gently. “And even if they can’t find a way, you’ll still have the experiences and the knowledge that they exist. You are not alone.”

Miles sighed again and nodded. _Nice to know we’re not alone, right?_ Peni had said before parting ways at the Collider. And she was right - even if they never saw each other again, the fact remained that they _existed,_ somewhere, and that was enough for Miles.

Hell, they could even exist in _his_ universe, just not as… Spider-People. Peter Parker, obviously, was dead, but a robotics genius by the name of Peni? A Gwen Stacy who liked to make music? It was _possible._

Not that Miles wanted to seek them out. What would he say, anyway? _Hey, you don’t know me but I’ve met alternate realities of you where we all share the same powers Spider-Man has and fight crime in exactly the same way he does. Wanna go out for pizza?_

God, he _did_ need more friends, though. He had them, it was just that most didn’t go to Brooklyn Visions, and they _definitely_ didn’t have spider-powers. 

Even so, connecting with the people - even if he wouldn’t become their _friends_ \- could do some good. He’d feel better about taking on the mantle of Spider-Man if people felt more comfortable about him. And by putting himself out there, that might just happen.

“I’m gonna do it,” Miles decided. “I’m getting on Twitter.”

May smiled over the lid of her mug. An amused, mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. “Have fun, Spider-Man.”

* * *

Spidey  
@realspiderman   
hola!!! due to peer pressure i'm now on twitter :) 4:12 PM - Oct 18, 2018  1.2K  602 

ANXIOUS  
@heneedsomeMILK   
@realspiderman Oh my god. Again?? we're doing the fake accounts AGAIN??? 4:27 PM - Oct 18, 2018  2  5 

Faith <3  
@closeyoureyesandbreathe   
@realspiderman lmao what who peer pressured you 4:31 PM - Oct 18, 2018  0  2 

fuck you sony  
@heeheesmallpeepee   
@realspiderman bro i- you even got the spanish down. thats some dedication right there but we're still not gonna believe youre the real deal 4:31 PM - Oct 18, 2018  3  6 

pew pew pew  
@jessesspam   
@heeheesmallpeepee Tf I didnt even know he spoke spanish KFHSDFSFSJHF 4:33 PM - Oct 18, 2018  0  1 

Spidey  
@realspiderman   
the fact y'all immediately assume i'm a fake is SO insulting... as if anyone could embody my aura well enough to be a fake acc smh (Pensive Face ) anyways heres a selfie for proof twitter.com/status/ 4:35 PM - Oct 18, 2018  4.8K  6.3K 

Carter  
@oldschoolstyle   
@realspiderman what the fuucckkkk that's the real deal i can't find that photo anywhere holy shit holy shit holsyt jghdfklJDFDS ????? 4:33 PM - Oct 18, 2018  9  12 

franny  
@daydreamsinawallet   
am I dreaming or did Spiderman get a TWITTER and it's NOT a fake?? 4:41 PM - Oct 18, 2018  2  11 

Spidey  
@realspiderman   
ok real talk tho i had no idea spiders could do camouflage OR venom strike thing till i got my powers lol 4:56 PM - Oct 18, 2018  7.9K  12.K 

area 51 is a hoax  
@alienenthusiast   
@realspiderman did you get your powers the same way peter did? a spider bite? 4:57 PM - Oct 18, 2018  0  1 

Spidey  
@realspiderman   
@alienenthusiast i came straight from area 51 actually 4:56 PM - Oct 18, 2018  4.1K  5.8K 

area 51 is a hoax  
@alienenthusiast   
@realspiderman 1) omg you actually responded fkjdhfkgd 2) was that a fucking reference to my username eye- 2:34 PM - Oct 9, 2018  56  87 

terryyy  
@idontsuckdick   
i'm so confused is spidey on twitter as a joke or because it's a way for us to contact him...?? ? 5:01 PM - Oct 18, 2018  3  7 

Spidey  
@realspiderman   
@idontsuckdick i'm just here for the memes babey!!!! 5:04 PM - Oct 18, 2018  8.3K  10.4K 

berry puss  
@raspberrycum   
WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON @realspiderman 5:04 PM - Oct 9, 2018  7  18 

Spidey  
@realspiderman   
@raspberrycum mood 5:06 PM - Oct 18, 2018  6.9K  7.7K 

Spidey  
@realspiderman   
holy shit i'm trending 5:07 PM - Oct 18, 2018  11.2K  13.4K 

uwu  
@littleredridingbitch   
twitter is burning the fuck down #spideyontwitter 5:09 PM - Oct 18, 2018  23  87 

 

* * *

Things weren’t adding up. 

Spider-Man, though clearly established to be a kid, certainly continued to alter his voice around Jeff at least a little bit; which made little sense, seeing as how it was near impossible Jeff would recognize the voice out of the thousands of kids in Brooklyn. He really only saw Miles, some of his old classmates from Brooklyn Middle, his roommate Ganke, and the children of his coworkers. Kids he picked up off the street and drove home or to the station in his police car didn’t really count, since he never interacted with them after they left for either home or juvie. 

So why was Spider-Man so adamant about changing his voice around someone he probably would never interact with outside of the suit?

That wasn’t the only thing, of course. The way he walked was _achingly_ familiar - springy, excitable, ready to swing up into the air with gangly limbs that screamed _youth_ \- what Jeff had first written off to be just the similar way all kids Spidey’s age walked, he now wondered if he really _did_ know Spider-Man outside of the costume. 

(Which, really, completely refuted his original claim. If he knew Spidey outside of the mask, Spidey would know him, too.)

The possibility of knowing his civilian identity was certainly daunting. Which kid he _knew_ was putting his life on the line for the city?

Though the vigilante really _did_ do a better job at masking himself than Jeff gave him credit for. Though the officer considered himself relatively good at puzzles, bringing up the fact that he beat his family at game night whenever he could with his coworkers, there seemed to be a piece here that he simply… couldn’t catch. No matter how much he grasped for it, it continued to slip through his fingers, just out of reach. Infuriating, yes, but it also made him want to figure it out all the more quickly.

Jeff let out a half sigh, half groan as he stretched his back over his chair, spine popping with a satisfying release of pressure. His coworker, Jane Goldstein, sitting across from him, gave him one of her signature looks of contempt thinly spread over fondness. 

“You look like shit,” she told him with a snort, mouth twitching as Jeff grumbled to himself. “What’s on your mind? Rio taking more shifts?”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Jeff moaned dramatically, groping around for his coffee mug. “I don’t _know_.” He lifted the mug up to his lips, tipped it back, and waited for the drink - only to find the mug had already been emptied. Shoulders slumping in defeat, he placed the mug back on his desk.

“C’mon. You gotta tell me _now._ Spill. Spill the tea.”

“The what?”

“It’s something my kids say.”

“Damnit, Goldie, you know I don’t know slang.”

Goldstein shrugged. 

Jeff stared blankly at his computer screen, which showcased all his emails over the past half hour - reports, some complaints, and Dave from forensics wouldn’t stop bugging everyone over the stupid DNA results no one in his district was even in charge of. Boring. All boring. God, he was _dying_.

“I need to get out of here,” Jeff muttered.

“Well, your usual lunch break would be in about-” Goldstein checked her watch, “-uh, four minutes. We can leave a little earlier. Then you can tell me what’s up.”

Jeff’s eyes flicked down to his clock, and a grin started to work its way across his face. “Hey, Frank,” he called, and a balding head popped up from a few desks down. “Make sure you take care of Dave for right now, I’m heading on break.”

“Dave from forensics?” At Jeff’s nod, the other officer let out a long-suffering sigh. “But I just dealt with him this _morning._ ”

“Just like crime, annoyances never sleep,” Jeff retorted already grabbing his jacket to follow Goldstein out the building.

They took the stairs two at a time and reached Goldsteins car seconds later. She revved up the engine and drove out of the parking lot, drumming her hands on the steering wheel as she turned onto the street. 

“So,” she started just as Jeff began to fiddle around with the radio; the coffee shop the two liked to go to for lunch was only about a five minute drive, but he liked to get in a couple songs in before then. “Wanna tell me what’s been on your mind recently?”

“Nothing’s been on my mind.” The lie felt wrong on his lips, distasteful, and it must’ve showed on his face, because Goldstein didn’t buy it for a second.

“You’ve been totally out of it for days now. Weeks, actually, but it’s been getting worse. Is it the boarding school? You’re son’s doing fine, I’m sure. It’s natural to worry-”

“That’s not it.” Jeff tried to placate her as quickly as possible - she tended to ramble far too often, and he didn’t have the energy to endure one of her longer tangents today. Or anytime, really. But especially in the past few weeks.

Goldstein’s’ eyes widened as she turned her head to Jeff, who had a moment of panic when a teenager just barely flew by before she hit him. “Eyes on the road, Goldie!”

She snapped her head back towards the front and took too sharp of a turn. “It’s Spider-Man, isn’t it?” she accused. “Come on, Davis. You know he hasn’t been causing all that much trouble - I know how you feel about him, but you gotta admit, he’s been doing good for the city in the couple months he’s been here-”

Jeff let out a long groan. “I _know._ That’s not the problem.”

Goldstein raised her eyebrows but luckily kept her eyes glued to the street. “Oh? So you admit he’s an asset to the city?”

“That’s not the poi-” He stopped. “I just. He seems so _familiar._ It’s scaring me, y’know? ‘Cause he’s clearly a minor, and I don’t think his parents know he’s doing this, and it’s just. I just…”

Goldstein sighed as she finally reached the cafe. “Yeah, I know,” she murmured, perfecting her usual parallel parking, arguably the only good thing about her driving. “Peter Parker was sixteen, after all. Look where it got him.”

* * *

Tea Time!  
@SisSnapped   
Yall remember seein Peter just chugging coffee on the tops of buildings every morning? Time for a vote: would new!Spidey drink coffee, tea, or soda?? 4:37 PM - Oct 19, 2018  782  3.7K 

seb  
@okbabes   
@SisSnapped he's so high energy. definitely soda. with how young he is i can't see him drinking a lot of coffee lol 4:42 PM - Oct 19, 2018  4  13 

:^)  
@creeperAWman   
@SisSnapped @okbabes whaaat no its absolutely tea!! he likes sweet stuff, the hot chocolate thing is proof of that :3 4:58 PM - Oct 19, 2018  5  17 

check pinned <3  
@sippinonsometears   
@SisSnapped You FOOLS. You baffoons. He drinks juice boxes. CLOWNS 4:01 PM - Oct 19, 2018  11  27 

Spidey  
@realspiderman   
@SisSnapped imma just let y'all figure this out yourselves ;) 4:05 PM - Oct 19, 2018  989  2.4K 

* * *

“ _Dios mío,_ ” Miles breathed from his place on the top of the street vendor. “I have made a terrible mistake.”

Arty didn’t even look at him as he handed out another hot chocolate to a couple. “Oh, the Twitter thing? My daughter wouldn’t stop talking about it.”

“Everyone is so _pushy_ ,” he whined, dropping his head dramatically onto the top of the stand, one leg swinging back and forth as it hung. “I’m being memed left and right. No one takes me seriously.”

“At least you’re not getting, uh, what was it she said?” Arty scratched his head. “Ah. _Cancelled._ Whatever that means.”

“That’s ‘cause I cancel myself daily anyway,” Miles shot back. “Can’t cancel me if there’s nothing to cancel. My reputation is constantly ruined. Exhibit A: me getting a Twitter.” he twisted the strings of the LIU hoodie around in his hand. 

Arty just let out a snort and leaned out of the way of someone’s camera being held up. Miles put up a lazy peace sign as they took the photo, dropping it again in favor of playing with the strings and wondering just what he had done to deserve this.

“They _still_ think I’m eleven,” Miles complained. “You have to be _at least_ thirteen to be on Twitter.”

Arty rolled his eyes. “You’re taking it too seriously. They _like_ you. That’ll be 10 dollars, ma’am,” he told the star-struck teenager who had been standing there gawking at the exchange instead of paying for her hot chocolate.

“You think?”

“I know it.” Arty smiled at a little boy who pointed up at him and the vigilante on the roof of his stand. “My daughter explained it to me. They’re memeing you, but it’s not _bad_ . They’re not cancelling you. Just making jokes. They wouldn’t do that if they didn’t like you at least a little bit. There are _fan pages,_ apparently.”

“Your daughter seems nice,” Miles mused. “She a fan?”

“She’s too old for you, is what,” Arty snorted, pouring another cup of hot chocolate, which he held up for Miles to take. “Nearly eighteen. Here, on the house for your woes.”

Miles sat up straight. His spider-sense buzzed in the back of his head. “I’m gonna have to say no to that, Arty,” he murmured, trying to pinpoint where the alert came from. 

“First time you’ve ever refused hot choc-”

There. A glint in an alleyway.

Miles was gone with an “ _Adiós!_ ” before Arty could finish his sentence. He jumped and used a web to swing a few feet over the crowd of people, then landed on the side of the building that housed the alleyway. He quickly shrugged off the hoodie and stuck it to the side of the building with a web. The buzzing in his head grew more insistent the closer he got to the corner.

He peeked into the alleyway from his place on the wall. Though the setting sun made it hard to see any details, he could make out four figures: three of which had cornered the last against a dumpster. The cornered one wore what looked to be an expensive suit. A mugging.

The largest man held a knife and was currently threatening the man. “You don’t have any money?” he taunted. “That it? That why you got them fancy clothes on, then? Huh? That rich man’s watch? No money at all?”

The victim looked seconds away from passing out, sweat dripping down his face. He let out a squawk as the men closed in, and Miles took that as his cue to jump down from his place on the wall to land in front of the would-be assailants.

“Wow,” he quipped as his eyes slid down to the small knife the man held, “What were you gonna do with that? Spread some butter?”

The men stumbled back from stared at him in surprise for a moment. The one holding the knife was the first to break out of his reverie and snarl at Miles, taking a step towards him; Miles ducked as his spider-sense buzzed and the thug swung the knife forward. At the last moment, Miles grabbed the man they had been about to mug and threw him as gently as he could away from the attackers, yelling at him to get out of the alleyway and into safety.

“ _Mutants_ ,” Miles heard the victim mutter as he dusted off his suit and hurried out of the alleyway.

 _Ungrateful, much?_ Miles thought in irritation (not to mention the fact that he wasn't even a real _mutant),_ only to let out an _oomf_ as one of the thugs managed to knee him in the stomach. He scrambled away before they could get him again and jumped above their heads, kicking one in the head, who grunted and fell to the ground - not unconscious, just stunned.

“You little piece of shit,” the one with the knife snarled and charged Miles, who ducked again. Spider sense warning him, he used a web to trip and web up the other man that had tried to sneak up behind him. He managed to tap the man with knife on the shoulder and waited for a second for the venom strike to set in. 

Miles winced as the man screamed and dropped the weapon, writhing on the floor for a moment or two before stilling. He webbed him up, muttering a, “Sorry ‘bout that, man.” He didn’t particularly like using the venom strike on people without powers, since it could be rather painful if he put too much power into it. Though perhaps this guy was just overly sensitive, since he really hadn’t put that much strike into it.

“Now,” Miles said into the gloomy light of the alleyway, stretching his arms a little, “where’s lucky number three?”

The last thug seemed to have made a break for it, so Miles busied himself with calling the cops on the two he _had_ managed to nab-

_LOOK OUT_

His hand dropped from the small pocket that held his phone and he dropped into a crouch, hands holding most of his weight as his legs stretched out below him. The glint of a second knife in the low light passed overhead and with it the large body of the man he had kicked before. He tripped and fell against the dumpster, righting himself and preparing to attack just as Miles straightened up and prepared to shoot a web. 

His web caught the man’s legs and swept them from underneath him. Miles was about to shoot another web to keep him trapped, but a voice from the end of the alley froze him in place for a moment.

“Kid-!” 

That was all the criminal needed - next thing Miles knew, he felt like something had punched him, _hard,_ in his side, and heat almost immediately spread across his abdomen. 

He looked down to see the thug, face already blossoming into a bruise from where Miles had kicked him, with his hand on the handle of the knife.

Which was stuck in his side.

“Ah, shit,” Miles wheezed.

The criminal’s eyes grew wide as Miles gave a sloppy punch to his jaw. He stumbled a bit, took another step forward - and froze for a moment, then whirled around and sprinted in the opposite direction, through to the other end of the alley.

“ _Hey-_ ” came the same voice from before. The officer stopped by Miles’ side and looked like he was going to take off after the perp, only to give up and turn to the vigilante, knife still in his side.

“Hey, Officer Davis,” Miles croaked. He pressed a hand into his side, winced at the pain that lanced through his body. The adrenaline was wearing off and he knew he would be feeling the full effects of the knife in just a minute or so.

“My God, son, I’m so sorry,” Jeff cried, gathering Miles into his arms. “I called out to you - distracted you - Jesus-”

“Not your fault.” Miles cleared his throat. “This is starting to hurt.”

“Sit down,” Jeff ordered. Miles complied, with the help of his father, and leaned against the wall. Black spots danced in his vision as he stumbled to the ground and his abdomen throbbed.

“Hospital.”

“No hospital,” Miles murmured. “Can’t do ‘n x-ray with this.”

Jeff looked he was only half paying attention. His face had blanched, his lips pressed into a thin line. He looked at the handle of the knife. Some of the blade still stuck out of his skin. “It’s a small pocket knife,” he said with just a little bit of relief, “so the blade isn’t that long. Two, three inches, I’d say. Maybe just a little over half of that went into your side.”

“Thas good?” Miles’ speech was slurring. He was so _tired._ He had stayed up late last night patrolling, and then took two tests in a row the next day, not to mention him missing breakfast that morning - and he had only about half of lunch. And now he had been stabbed. And the perp had gotten away. Fuck, he was really doing well today, huh?

“You’re doing _fine,_ the cops will catch him _,_ and we’ve already got another unit on the way to pick up the last two you webbed up, _”_ Davis told him fiercely, and it was then that Miles realized he must have said the last part out loud. “I’ve only got limited experience treating stab wounds. Our apartment is close by, I can bring you there and my wife can treat you again.”

“M’kay, Dad,” Miles slurred, fighting to stay awake. 

The next moment, he was in the back of the police car. 

And…

 _Oh, my hoodie’s still stuck to a building,_ Miles thought randomly, then stopped fighting the heaviness in his eyelids and succumbed to sleep.

* * *

bridget  
@heyimsucky   
i have so much fear of spidey finding the weird fan edits of him now that he's on twitter even tho logically i know his civilian form is probably also on here and likely already saw them 2:01 PM - Oct 19, 2018  10  27 

reddddrobin **Anonymous** asked:whos ur fave spiderman  You serious, bro? You're telling me to pick between the current Spider-Man and the one that died just a few months ago? Both of which are/were very young?? Fuck off lmao. These are real people, not fictional characters.  #robin asks#anon 33 notes 

 

* * *

“He called me _Dad_ , Rio,” Jeff sighed as she worked on the small figure on their couch. “What does that tell you?”

Rio looked like she was thinking carefully on her answer. “I don’t know, Jeff. What do you think?”

He began to pace. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s lacking a father figure at home, and sees me as someone who could possibly fill that position. Even though I’m a cop and have vocally stated my distaste towards vigilantes before. Maybe he does have a father, but his home situation isn’t ideal and seeks out people other than direct family who could have that relation to him. Maybe he was just delirious and I’m reading too much into it-”

“Whatever it is,” Rio cut him off gently, tying off the bandages on his side, “he’s going to be okay. The wound wasn’t that deep. He passed out due to shock, probably, but I’d have to guess he has some other problems. He might be dehydrated. And he’s dangerously thin. I don’t think he’s getting enough nutrition.”

“You think he’s been eating the food we’ve been giving him?”

Rio gave him a long, hard look. “Jeff. He isn’t going to eat all fifty meals you give him in a day. He has a very busy schedule.”

“How would you know?” Jeff stopped pacing to stare at her.

Rio hesitated. “If he’s truly in school, then that on top of Spider-Man can’t be easy. He’s having a hard time.”

Jeff slumped down on the couch. “He called me _Dad_.”

“I know, _amor._ ”

Jeff’s eyes shifted to the small child on his sofa. Spider-Man was sleeping soundly, chest rising and falling at regular intervals. _Sleep deprivation is definitely likely for him, so we should let him sleep some,_ Rio had said when he had fully blacked out on the sofa. “He’s so _small_.”

“I know.”

Jeff wrung his hands. “He seems to familiar, Rio. Am I crazy, or do you feel like you know him too?”

Rio gazed upon Spider-Man’s sleeping form. “Yes. I feel it too, Jeff.” She looked back at her husband with wet, brown eyes. “Let’s let him sleep. If he isn’t gone by morning, we can talk to him tomorrow over breakfast.”

Jeff blinked at her. “About what?”

“About everything,” Rio elaborated. She put a soft hand on the top of Spider-Man’s head. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate the company."

* * *

eat-the-rich  castleonthehill eat-the-rich wow yall really love clowning on a literal hero who just tries to help huh castleonthehill It's got nothing to do with him being a hero/vigilante, it's him being so obviously young and putting himself in the line of fire like that instead of living his life  eat-the-rich shut the fuck up and think for a second. he isn't doing this because it's COOL. the fights both him and peter have been in are more than enough to show that. he's doing this because he CAN. because as peter said, with great power comes great responsibility. if he has the power to do something, he will. and he has powers to help him heal, for fucks sake. this isn't him being dumb. it's him being a hero. stop saying he's not ready. he's proved himself more than enough times. he deserves support.  Source: eat-the-rich #it just GRINDS on my nerves when people keep bringing this up#like YES hes young but he's not gonna stop cause some internet ppl told him to #he knows what he's gotten himself into. support him and don't be an asshole who babies him all the time he's got fucking superpowers #spiderman 304 notes 

ungrateful-y i wonder if his parents know  #god.. he's just a kid. i hope he's doing okay#spiderman 213 notes 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> super sorry for the late update writer's block is a bitch uwu!! they stole peter from us and now i'm in fucking pain haha!!! ow!!!! 
> 
> this episode: "i'll come back for you" by max schneider (i think he rebranded as MAX now)
> 
> next chappie is gonna be a fun one cause i'm adding different social media in!!! insta is gonna make an appearance n hopefully snapchat too! i wanted to put in discord but unfortunately the CSS skin doesn't work well with the ios and messes it up (if u noticed text messages in the fic were a bit wonky, it was cause i was testing out discord and didn't realize it was messing everything up lol sorry it's back to normal now)
> 
> maybe i'll make a separate part of this story where it's all just discord chats. what do yall think
> 
> have a lovely day/night!! eat the rich and follow me on [tumblr](https://d-o-t-s.tumblr.com/) <3

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Tell me a story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18253226) by [FamRoyalty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FamRoyalty/pseuds/FamRoyalty)




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